The Flames Rose Higher
by Kat.R.777
Summary: Katniss and Cinna were fighting to make the world a better place. They were waiting for change. They also might've been waiting for each other, but they had a long way to go before either of them would admit it. Cinna/Katniss. AU. SPOILERS for all three books.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: The Flames Rose Higher**

**Genre: Angst, Romance, Friendship and Hurt/Comfort.**

**Setting: Canon up until around the end of chapter 12 of **_**Catching Fire**_**. Story starts with the 76th Hunger Games. The tributes just got their training scores.**

**Characters: Katniss, Cinna, Haymitch, Peeta, and President Snow (though he's mostly off-screen).**

**Pairings: Mainly Cinna/Katniss. Some Katniss/Peeta, mentions of past Katniss/Gale, mentions of non-consensual various Victors (especially Katniss and Finnick)/Others. Background pairings include Finnick/Annie and Gale/Madge.**

**Length: There will be approx. 10 chapters total.**

**Rating: T for off-screen suggestive adult themes (though there is some kissing and light groping on-screen), mostly off-screen violence, and minor rude language. Nothing explicit.**

**Warnings: T for reasons stated above. SPOILERS for entire HG series. AU. Mentions of forced prostitution (which is where the non-con comes in). Mentions of past spousal abuse and homicide. **

**Notes: I wrote this fic because there's just not enough Cinna/Katniss on this site.**

**Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the **_**Hunger Games**_** trilogy. I am not Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Flames Rose Higher<strong>

**Chapter One – Cinna**

"We should have realized from the very beginning, you know," she murmured.

"Should've realized what?" he asked absent-mindedly, gaze fixated on her. He'd always found himself drawn in by the little things. Not how long a woman's legs were or the way a man flexed his arm to show off his muscles. But the little things. How Katniss' dark silken locks, unbraided for once, contrasted with her pure white nightgown as they spilled onto her shoulders. The way her head was tilted back, baring her throat and allowing her eyes to catch the moonlight, so that they almost seemed to glow silver.

Not that he was attracted to her, of course. He'd seen her naked about a hundred times by now, and for the most part the sight of her unclothed body just made him think of how thin she had been when he first met her. Besides, she'd only recently turned eighteen, which meant he was nearly five years older than her.

It was the artist in him that allowed him to appreciate those slivers of her beauty. It was perfectly natural for him to examine her so thoroughly, for his curious eyes to want to memorize every inch of her skin, every curve of her body, so that he could—design. Her outfits. That was what he wanted. To design her outfits.

"That I was always doomed to cause more harm than good. I'm the girl on fire. And fire burns, Cinna. It burns away everything it touches until there's nothing left but smoke and ashes to choke on."

That certainly snapped Cinna out of his daze. "That's not true at all," he protested gently.

"It is," she said. "I burn anyone who gets too close to me. Rue. Gale. Peeta."

"What about Prim? What about me? You haven't burned us. You've never done anything to hurt either of us," he told her firmly, brushing his thumb across her cheek. "And you've done a lot of good. You rescued your sister from certain death. You gave Rue peace and happiness in her last moments. You saved Peeta's life, Katniss, when even Haymitch had given up on him."

"Right," she said. "Except now my sister will be killed if I so much as breath the wrong way, and people in Rue's district are dead because I couldn't keep my mouth shut on my Victory Tour, and Peeta was forced to _marry_ me even though I broke his heart into a million tiny pieces by pretending to love him."

If they hadn't been on the roof of the Training Center where the wind drowned out their quiet voices, he knew she wouldn't have dared to utter a single word of what she'd just said. The implication that Snow had threatened her sister, that an uprising had almost started in District 11 not even two years ago, that Katniss didn't really love Peeta—all of that they were forbidden to mention where the Capitol might hear them.

Cinna's next words were so dangerous that, despite the volume of the wind, he leaned in closer to Katniss until his forehead was pressed against her hair and his lips grazed her ear.

"Katniss, none of that was your fault. It's the Capitol that's responsible, you can't forget that. That's why we're fighting. You can't forget that," he repeated, his voice so low that even his own ears could barely pick it up.

He was about to pull away, but she turned her head so that her cheek was pressed against his, and he could feel her breath on his ear. "The more time I spend in this place, the more I feel like I'm just another Capitol fake. I follow their fashion trends and go to their events and sleep with their men—"

"Because you don't have a choice," he interrupted, his whisper coming out harsher than he'd intended it to.

He was aware of a well-kept secret: Snow sold desirable victors to the highest paying customer, and the families of the victors who refused to go along with it were killed. He knew this not because he'd ever paid for a night with a victor—he'd shoot himself in the head before he ever did anything that despicable—but because Haymitch had told him, insisting that he needed to know, considering Cinna would be the one dolling Katniss up for her almost nightly visits and then when she came back, removing or concealing the scars and bruises and burns that her "lovers" had inflicted on her.

It had started when the third Quarter Quell began. The tributes had all been disabled in some way: blind, deaf, crippled, or somehow mentally unsound. Katniss and Peeta had been the mentors because everyone knew Haymitch would be wasted the entire time. Katniss had been seventeen and married to Peeta for barely over a month. The star-crossed lovers strategy, instead of exempting her from being sold, made her more attractive in the eyes of the Capitol men. Other than Finnick Odair, there wasn't anyone more in demand than her. President Snow had decided that making people believe her love for Peeta was real was a lost cause and that the best way to undermine Katniss' influence in the districts was to turn her into a Capitol puppet, someone who appeared to embrace their lifestyle.

It worked. People were disgusted with her, and felt betrayed. In the other districts, in her own. In the town, in the Seam. Her old friends who used to frequent the Hob, back when there was a Hob. Her own mother. Katniss got into fights with Mrs. Everdeen almost weekly about the way she behaved in the Capitol. Katniss' former friend Gale was even worse. He didn't talk to her, didn't even acknowledge her existence, and he flew into a rage if anyone in his family did.

But the very worst part was that Peeta, of all people, didn't know she was being blackmailed. They'd given up the choice of who they got to spend the rest of their lives with, and Peeta thought she'd thrown that sacrifice away like it was nothing so she could sleep with people she didn't even care about. That was part of the deal with Snow. If she told Peeta the truth, he would be forced into prostitution, too. It had made them both unbelievably bitter towards each other, although Peeta tried to ignore it as best he could, and Katniss tried to remember that it wasn't his fault that he didn't know. Cinna tried to remember that, too, but it was hard when Katniss came back bruised and bloodied and _empty_ and all Peeta could do was stare at her accusingly and storm out of the room.

The one bright spot was that her sister didn't treat her any differently. Prim seemed to know intuitively that there was more going on than what she was told and what she saw on the screen. She didn't blame Katniss, and even defended her to people who insulted her behind her back or to her face. Katniss had once said, rather ruefully, that Prim's support was probably the only thing stopping her from drowning in self-pity. Well, that and the knowledge that there were still victors who had it worse than her. Like Finnick and Annie and Johanna and Haymitch.

"I'm sick of it, you know," Katniss said suddenly, startling Cinna. Her cheek was still pressed against his. "I'm sick of never having a choice. With Peeta and Gale and now all these Capitol scumbags."

He wasn't sure how Gale fit in, but he knew better than to ask. He pulled back a bit, so that he could see her face. Her eyes. Fierce and lost and heartbroken. She was right. She'd never had a choice.

The thought came to him unbidden.

"I could give you one," he said, before he could stop himself. Her eyes widened, and he hastily added, as though he was just joking, "Unless I count as a Capitol scumbag."

She didn't answer. She was still staring at him like he'd told her the sky was green. Rejection seemed to make her closeness sting, so he scrambled to his feet. She stood up, too, and he wracked his brain for an excuse to leave. He could tell her he needed to work on poor Clementine's interview dress, which he'd finished two days ago, but Katniss would believe him if he told her he needed to alter it and she wouldn't ask any questions because she had no interest in fashion—

She was kissing him. Her lips were moving against his in ways that made him dizzy and he realized that despite his shock, he was responding automatically, tangling a hand in her hair, his other pushing aside the thick strap of her nightgown so he could touch her bare shoulder.

Cinna had kissed plenty of people before, both men and women, and it had never felt anything like this. He felt the way she must've felt on that chariot years ago. Like he'd been lit on fire.

He needed air, and he was sure she did too, so he pulled away. She let out a hiss of protest when his mouth left hers, and the hand that had slipped under his shirt to trace patterns on his chest curled into a fist. Possibly she planned to punch him in the gut, but he didn't give her the chance. He lowered his mouth to her pulse point, and, hearing her breathing hitch, allowed his lips to trail down her neck until they reached the hollow of her throat.

He lingered there, lips tugging at the sensitive flesh, teeth scraping her skin.

She whispered his name.

He lifted his head back up and then her tempting lips were on his again. Why had he even tried to deny it? Of course he was attracted to her. Of course he wanted her. And from the way she was kissing him, she wanted him, too.

Or did she? There was a difference between choosing to kiss someone you wanted to kiss and choosing to kiss someone to prove you had the choice. Maybe she was just desperate to be in control of her life for once, and he was taking advantage of that, of her. If he let this go farther, how was he any better than those men who paid Snow so they could have the Girl on Fire for a night?

He jerked away from her so suddenly that she stumbled a little. She stared at him in shock as he blurted out something about Clementine's dress and practically sprinted for the door to the stairs. Just before it swung shut behind him he looked back, and saw that the shock on her face had transformed into something very like hurt.

When he reached his room, he collapsed onto his bed and put his head in his hands. And realized he'd fled from Katniss as though her touch had burned him.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: It never says in the books how old Cinna is. He's just described as a young man, which I figured meant he was most likely in his late 20searly 30s. However, I wanted him to be closer to Katniss' age so I made him 23, meaning he would've been 21 when he first met her. I figure if anyone is talented enough to land a position as a stylist in the Games at 21, it's Cinna.**

**Reviews are appreciated, especially if they contain constructive criticism. I don't have a problem with flames.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: The Flames Rose Higher**

**Warnings: See first chapter for warnings.**

**Notes: Thanks to the people who favourite this story and/or put it on alert, and special thanks to **Howlynn**, **headstand**,** micmic022 **and** Jits **for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the **_**Hunger Games**_** trilogy. I am not Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Flames Rose Higher<strong>

**Chapter Two – Katniss**

Katniss Everdeen woke up the day before interviews with a massive hangover and a vague urge to rid the world of men. The hangover was nothing new; with Haymitch as her mentor it was inevitable that she got utterly trashed every once in a while. What she didn't understand was why she was suddenly craving the eradication of the entire male species.

Especially since last night had not, as far as she could remember, been anywhere near as horrible as it usually was. Her patron yesterday had been one of the rare idiots that believed himself to be in love with her, and although it was exhausting to pretend to be head over heels for someone she despised on principle, he'd been a welcome change from all the men who desired nothing more than to see her broken under them.

The man had treated her to an extravagant dinner at some fancy restaurant she'd forgotten the name of before suggesting they head back to his place. The second they had slid into the back seat of the cab, he'd leaned in to kiss her, and she'd been so overwhelmed by his ridiculous cologne that she'd started coughing uncontrollably.

Her patron, who was either incredibly dumb or very afraid of germs, had fretted that she'd gotten some sort of virus and had ordered the cab driver to take her back to the Training Center immediately. After a dramatic farewell that thankfully hadn't involved any kissing except for a peck on her forehead, she'd gone straight to her room to get out of her provocative dress and high heels, remove all the jewelry, and wash off her makeup. Then she had put on her nightgown, gleefully basking in the glow of being set free hours earlier than she'd expected without having had to endure unwanted hands roaming all over her body, and had gone up to the roof where she'd encountered Cinna—

Oh. _Oh_.

Katniss sprang out of bed, stumbled into the bathroom that was attached to her room, and threw up into the toilet. Just because she wasn't a stranger to drinking didn't mean she was so familiar with it that she no longer experienced hangover symptoms like vomiting and the pounding headache she could feel coming on. She wasn't Haymitch.

When she was sure she'd completely emptied the contents of her stomach, she removed all evidence of what had just happened, washed her face, and then left the bathroom. Upon glancing at the clock, she realized that she had less than an hour until Effie started banging on her door, ordering her to get ready for breakfast because today they had to coach the tributes on interviews.

Katniss collapsed onto her bed and tried to smother herself with her pillow. Hearing Effie chirping on about what a 'big, big, big day!' it was made her want to scream even on a good morning; it would be a million times worse with her alcohol-induced headache. Not to mention that she was in an extra bad mood because she now fully remembered last night.

Talking with Cinna on the rooftop was not a rare occurrence. She tried to find time for it every day. But _kissing_ Cinna on the rooftop—that had never happened before.

It wasn't like she'd never thought about kissing him; it had become a reflex for her to stare at the lips of any man she came across and wonder if his mouth would feel as awful against hers as her patrons' did.

Cinna's had not; he was always so gentle and kind, she'd known long before her lips had touched his that he'd be nothing like all the other men she had to kiss. Gale had kissed her once, back when he hadn't begrudged her every breath she breathed. It hadn't felt bad, exactly, but it hadn't felt good either. She hadn't seen it coming and she couldn't honestly say that she had wanted it to happen. Peeta, despite thinking that she'd betrayed him, always kissed her lovingly. He was always so steady and so careful to never do anything that might hurt her. But that didn't change the fact that they kissed because they had to, not because they wanted to.

Last night had been the first and only time she'd ever kissed someone simply because she'd wanted to. She'd wanted to know how Cinna's lips would taste, how his body would feel pressed against hers. She hadn't expected it to be so amazing, but she was hardly going to complain about that.

She also hadn't expected Cinna to run away, and she was certainly going to complain about _that_.

She'd driven herself crazy last night trying to figure out what it was that had made him bolt like his life depended on it. It definitely hadn't been her kissing technique; after all, she had a lot of experience. She'd come up with all sorts of theories, each one wilder than the last. But that wasn't why she'd gotten drunk out her mind.

If one of her patrons had run off halfway through having sex with her looking like he was going to hurl, she would've felt relieved; she might've even thrown a party to celebrate her good fortune.

But she certainly wouldn't have felt confused or frustrated or insecure or _miserable_. And Cinna, her stylist, her confidant, her friend—her best friend, really, ever since Gale had walked out of her life—shouldn't have been any different.

Except that he was.

It was this realization that had sent her scrambling to find Haymitch's secret booze stash so that she could drink until she forgot her own name.

She'd ended up stumbling into Johanna on the seventh floor—literally, she'd walked right into her and had almost dropped the half-empty bottle of liquor she gripped tightly in her right hand. After laughing her head off at Katniss' drunken state, the spiky-haired woman had dragged her into a supply closet where Finnick had promised to meet her once he was done romancing his patron for the night. Sure enough, after half an hour of Katniss and Johanna trading insults back-and-forth, the most gorgeous person in the Capitol—and all of Panem, if the man himself was to be believed—had barged in and announced that the party could start now that he was there.

Apparently he had expected Katniss to be there, but he seemed surprised to find she was completely plastered. After regaling the female victors with tales of his latest escapades and assuring them that Annie was doing all right, Finnick had cheerfully demanded to know why the Girl on Fire had gotten so drunk in the first place.

Instead of giving an explanation, Katniss vaguely recalled ranting about how infuriating men were and how the world would be better off without them. Johanna had shouted, "Hear, hear!" and pretended to clink an imaginary bottle to the one Katniss still clutched. Finnick had jokingly backed away from them in a nervous manner, mock fear written all over his pretty face.

Everything after that was a blur, but she assumed she'd passed out at some point and Finnick had carried her back to her room. And now she would have to shower and eat breakfast and try to hide the fact that she was entirely hungover from Peeta, who would be mad if he knew she'd been drinking when she was supposed to be keeping in top form so she could aid the tributes to the best of her ability.

Oh, forget about Peeta, what was she supposed to do if she ran into Cinna? What could she possibly say to him without somehow making a fool of herself? He'd basically _asked _her to kiss him, but now she wondered if he'd just been kidding. He'd looked pretty sincere, but he always closed himself off from the rest of the rest of the world and she had such a hard time figuring out what he was really thinking—

Katniss sighed and firmly told herself that it didn't matter why Cinna had fled, and if he never kissed her again that wouldn't matter either. It hadn't mattered with any of her patrons or with Gale or even with Peeta to an extent, and Cinna would not be any different. Really, he wouldn't be.

"Katniss!" a shrill voice called, followed by obnoxious pounding on her door that made her head throb. "Katniss, it's time for you to wake up and get ready for breakfast!"

The only female District 12 victor groaned in response.

"What was that? Katniss, do I have to come in?" Effie demanded.

"I'm up, I'm up!" Katniss hollered back.

"Well, you'd better hurry! We have a big, big, big day coming up!"

The annoying click of her heels retreated and eventually faded completely.

Katniss screamed into her pillow.

* * *

><p>"They're both doomed," Katniss felt compelled to point out the second Clementine closed the door behind her.<p>

Peeta and Katniss had agreed last year that although they were technically each assigned a tribute, they should still do their mentoring together. Katniss' strong point was helping the tributes with training and the private session with the Gamemakers, and Peeta's was helping with interview angles. It just made more sense if they combined the two. If their tributes wanted to keep secrets from each other, that was fine. Neither of the mentors was going to go blabbing to the other tribute.

"Says the girl so hungover she can't concentrate on anything for more than three minutes," Peeta retorted.

"I can so," said Katniss indignantly. "And you know I'm right. Okay, so Orsen has that tearjerker bit about his baby sister being left all alone with his unstable great-aunt if he dies. He's also got an insufferable attitude that will absolutely ruin the rest of his interview. And he's so scrawny, he only got a 5 in training, no one's going to sponsor him anyway."

"Clementine—" Peeta began.

"—is very pretty, but not very bright and not very strong," she finished. "And no one's going to look twice at her golden curls and her sweet smile while District 1's around. Face it," she added, "our kids are screwed."

Peeta stared at her. "What?" she demanded harshly.

"Nothing," he said. "Just trying to figure out when you gave up on everything."

Katniss tensed. "I haven't given up on everything."

"You have," he argued. "You never gave those kids a chance. The moment you saw them you wrote them off as a lost cause."

"Because they _are_ a lost cause," she insisted. "Look, I'm just doing what Haymitch did. You remember when we first met him? He didn't take us seriously until we proved we were fighters. The only thing Orsen and Clementine have proven is that they won't last a day."

Peeta pounded the table with his fist and stood up. "Would you _listen_ to yourself? Why are you so bitter? Why are you treating these kids like their lives aren't worth anything?"

"I never said that!" she said angrily, leaping to her feet, her voice rising in volume. "I would never say anything like that!"

"You were thinking it! That's what you think about everyone, that they don't matter! You're so selfish, Katniss, don't you see? You're so _selfish_! You never think about how anyone else feels, you never think about anyone but yourself!" he screamed at her.

She felt like he'd hit her. Of course she knew she was selfish. Everyone who met her knew she was selfish. Her mother, Gale, Haymitch, Finnick, Johanna—even Prim and Cinna knew, though they never called her on it. And she'd never expected Peeta to, either. Maybe some part of her had thought that he was blind to her faults. Why else would he love her? Gale had loved her, but Gale was almost as selfish as she was.

"I—" She was tongue-tied.

"Going to deny it, Katniss?" He was trembling with rage. "Then why do sleep with all those Capitol men, why did you turn your back on everything we worked for—"

"SHUT UP!" she shrieked. He could accuse her of giving up on her tributes, he could call her selfish, but she wasn't going to stand there and let him blame her for something that wasn't her fault. "Shut _up_, you have _no idea_ what you're talking about—"

"I know exactly what I'm talking about, everyone in Panem knows that you're a wh—"

She slapped him across the face so hard he reeled back. For a moment Peeta looked stunned. Then he strode over to the door and yanked it open roughly, revealing six shocked faces. Great. So the tributes, the stylists, Effie and Haymitch—though why he was even there was a mystery to Katniss, seeing as he wasn't mentoring this year—had probably heard most of their argument. They'd heard what Peeta had almost called her.

The entire situation was eerily similar to two years ago, when Peeta had announced to the whole world that he was in love with her and she'd been so mad that she'd shoved him, and then the adults had burst in and Effie had looked so horrified to see Peeta's bleeding hands.

Only now, Peeta pushed past their unwanted audience and walked away without looking back, and it wasn't just anger left hanging in the air. It was hatred.

Hatred. She hated the boy with the bread. The boy with the bread hated her.

Why did everyone who loved her end up hating her?

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I'll be alternating back-and-forth between Cinna's and Katniss' points of view, so next chapter is Cinna.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: The Flames Rose Higher**

**Warnings: See first chapter for warnings.**

**Notes: Thanks to the people who favourite this story and/or put it on alert, and special thanks to **Howlynn** for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the **_**Hunger Games**_** trilogy. I am not Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Flames Rose Higher<strong>

**Chapter Three – Cinna**

"Katniss…" Cinna said softly.

The gray-eyed girl was sitting on the couch, hugging her knees to her chest and looking so vulnerable that his heart ached.

If it weren't for the fact that Haymitch had ordered the other adults to escort the tributes back to their rooms and then disappeared himself, Cinna knew Katniss would have never let her real emotions show. She would've hidden her pain behind a mask, the way she always did with anyone but him. He would never quite be able to describe to her how much it meant to him that she trusted him so much. Even Prim didn't always get to see the real Katniss.

He settled down on the couch beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She stiffened, but after a long moment she sighed and leaned into him.

"Katniss, Peeta doesn't know the truth. If he did he would've never said those things to you," he whispered to her, running his hand up and down her arm to try and soothe her.

"How much did you hear?" she asked, staring fixedly at the wall behind him.

"Portia, Effie, Orsen and I were talking on the balcony when Haymitch showed up and said he was looking for you. Clementine hadn't come back yet, so we assumed you and Peeta were still working on strategies with her. But when we got here, she was listening at the door…" he trailed off.

Katniss went nearly as pale as poor Clementine had been when they found her with her ear pressed to the sitting room door. She swore under her breath and said, "She probably heard everything. I should have known that she'd eavesdrop on us; she's too curious for her own good." She glanced up at him. "But how much did _you_ hear?"

"Someone pounded the table—"

"Peeta," Katniss said.

"I figured. He asked you why you were bitter or something, and, well, we heard everything after that," Cinna confessed.

Katniss was silent, so Cinna said, "He was wrong."

"About what? About me being selfish?" She scoffed. "I'm not stupid, Cinna. I know you don't believe that."

"No, you are selfish," he said. She was his best friend in the entire world and he would have done absolutely anything for her, but he knew she was not perfect. "But everyone is selfish sometimes. That's just the way human beings are. It doesn't make you a bad person. And it definitely doesn't mean you only care about yourself." She'd dropped her gaze the moment he'd started speaking, so he tucked a hand under her chin and lifted her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. "I know you, Katniss. And even though you can be selfish and reserved and sometimes sullen and hostile—" His lips quirked up in a reminiscent smile. "—you do care. About a lot of people. And Peeta is one of them."

"Clementine and Orsen—" she began.

"You care about them," Cinna insisted. "You're afraid of getting attached to them, but you still care. You want them to come home."

"I'm not so sure I do." She blinked hard, like she was fighting back tears. "I'm not sure if I want them to survive. Not when I know what it's like if you do."

He felt as though the blood in his veins had turned to ice. "But you're glad you're alive, right?"

"I don't know," she said helplessly. "I am when I'm with you, usually. And when I'm with Prim. And sometimes when I'm with Finnick, and even Johanna and Haymitch." And Peeta, but she didn't say it. "But then I have to—you know." He did know. He knew and sometimes he wished he didn't, because seeing her in that kind of pain and not being able to do anything to help her was destroying him just as much as it was destroying Haymitch. "And sometimes it's just more than I can take."

He withdrew his arm from around her shoulders and gently took her face in his hands. "That's why I'm here. So you have someone to turn to when you can't handle everything anymore." He'd meant to reassure her, but instead she frowned. He thought his words over and smiled a little when he realized why they bothered her. "You silly girl," he murmured. He kissed her forehead. "That's not the _only_ reason I'm here."

"Isn't it?" She bit her lip.

"Of course it's not," he breathed. He kissed her nose. "I need you just as much as you need me."

It was a mark of how close they were that Katniss didn't try to deny she needed him.

"I don't know if I believe you," she whispered, but he could see that this time she was just teasing him.

Though her cheeks felt oddly warm under his palms, like she was…blushing?

Maybe she wasn't just teasing him. Maybe she was flirting.

Her mouth was so close, but he hesitated. Was this any different than last night? Did she want this or not? What would happen afterwards if he kissed her now?

He never got the chance to find out, because just then a sarcastic voice near the door said, "Oh, don't mind me. I'd love to watch the two of you sign your own death warrants."

They jerked away from each other simultaneously and turned to look at Haymitch. He was scowling at them, clutching his bottle of white liquor in his right hand.

"What are you talking about?" Katniss demanded, looking more embarrassed than angry.

Before Haymitch could answer, Cinna said, "That's right, I forgot; you wanted to speak to her, didn't you? Do you want me to leave?" Katniss shot him a betrayed look.

"No, you stay. I might as well tell you both at the same time," he said. His ominous tone made Cinna deeply uneasy.

"Tell us what?" Katniss asked.

He looked her straight in the eye. "President Snow paid me a visit earlier."

"_What_?" Cinna and Katniss said in unison. The black-haired girl added, "Why would President Snow want to see you? I didn't think he had time for repulsive drunks."

Haymitch snorted. "I didn't think so, either. But apparently he makes an exception for repulsive drunks who've mentored stupid girls that get caught making out with their stylist on the rooftop."

Katniss froze. Cinna felt the blood drain from his face. It wasn't so much the fact that Snow knew that worried him. It was the fact that Snow had obviously been concerned enough about it that he'd mentioned it to Haymitch.

"What exactly did Snow say?" Cinna forced the words out.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Said you two kissing didn't fit into his grand plans. Implied that he would kill your family—" Haymitch nodded at Katniss. "—and turn you into an Avox—" He nodded at Cinna. "—if it happened again. So I suppose I was technically lying just now when I said you'd be signing _your own_ death warrants—"

"It won't," Katniss interrupted hurriedly. "It won't ever happen again." But she was peeking at Cinna out of the corner of her eye, undoubtedly trying to gauge his reaction. He hoped he'd wiped his face blank quickly enough to hide his disappointment.

"Right," he agreed firmly.

Haymitch just shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I've got to talk to Peeta now. Sooner I get that over with the sooner I can get out of this damn Training Center and go back to drinking myself unconscious with Chaff." He left the room without another word.

Despite the hailstorm of emotions rising up in him, Cinna had to bite back a laugh. So Haymitch was going to "talk" to Peeta? Going to scream bloody murder at him for what he'd said to Katniss, more like. Katniss' former mentor was extremely protective of her and though the man liked to pretend otherwise, the truth was that everyone had noticed. Well, everyone except for Katniss herself, who was under the delusion that Haymitch hated her.

"So," Katniss said, breaking the awkward silence. "Are you finished with those alterations on Clementine's interview dress?"

_Alterations?_ Oh, right. His excuse for running away last night.

"Yes, the dress is done." He smiled at her. "It's not as striking as yours was, though."

She smiled back—a half-smile, really, but he was still grateful. Because if she was making an effort to ignore the elephant in the room, that meant he really did mean as much to her as she did to him.

* * *

><p>"Cinna! Cinna, wake up!" a hysterical voice was calling to him. He wrenched his eyes open and found a teary Effie standing at the foot of his bed, three equally distressed figures standing beside her.<p>

His clock said it was five in the morning. Cinna sat up in alarm. This wasn't their usual frenzy over trivial things like running out of their favourite lipstick. And he had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what was wrong.

"Clementine—" he began.

"Dead," Effie sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with a fancy handkerchief. "She died a few hours ago, but the hovercraft just got back now." Octavia whimpered and Flavius' purple lips pulled down at the corners.

"And Katniss?" He was already on his feet, grabbing a simple black shirt from his dresser and yanking it over his head.

"Peeta told us she went down to the gym with Finnick the moment the cannon fired," Venia said, her voice wavering slightly. "To shoot some arrows. I think she's still there."

"Probably the best thing for her," Cinna said wearily, massaging his temples.

"Did you want us to get started on—" Venia broke off, unable to finish the sentence, but Cinna knew what she meant. When a tribute died, it was their stylist's and prep team's job to dress them up before they were sent home in a wooden box.

"No, it's okay, I can do it by myself," he said gently, knowing that the prep team had been rather fond of Clementine and most likely wouldn't be able to handle it.

He wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it either, but he'd try. For poor Clementine and her family back in District 12.

"Thank you, Cinna," Octavia sobbed. Flavius nodded fervently in agreement.

Cinna just smiled.

* * *

><p>The arena this year was a labyrinth of ice and snow. Though there were trees for firewood and the icy walls of the maze were so high that no one could tell exactly where the smoke was coming from, it was difficult for the tributes to start fires unless they had matches.<p>

Orsen had disregarded Peeta and Katniss' warning to not run for the Cornucopia. He'd been reaching for a sleeping bag when a career stabbed him right through the heart with a sword she'd just picked up. That had been barely three minutes into the Games.

Clementine had lasted longer; she'd gotten as far away from the bloodbath as she possibly could, and though she'd had no supplies, between her seven in training and her cheerful attitude she'd had enough sponsors (combined with Orsen's meager, unused pool of sponsorship money) for Katniss and Peeta to send her a box of matches.

About two hours before midnight, the girl had decided to rest between a pine tree and a frozen over pond. She'd gathered branches from the tree to start a fire before she went to sleep and had been about to light a match when a scream sounded in the distance. She'd dropped the box of matches and sprung to her feet, accidentally sending the box and the branches skittering onto the frozen pond.

Clementine had been a delightful girl, but not a very smart one. It hadn't occurred to her that the ice might not be that thick. She'd taken all of two steps before it had shattered under her weight, plunging her into the freezing cold water below.

It had been clear she couldn't swim, and her head had gone under the water several times before she'd managed to grab onto a branch and haul herself, gasping and shuddering, back onto solid ground, and by that point the damage had been done. The matches had probably sunk to the bottom of the pond and she didn't have enough sponsorship money for another set.

No way of starting a fire, soaking wet, and the temperature in the arena was undoubtedly below freezing. There had been no way she'd survive the night.

And she hadn't. She'd frozen to death and now she was lying there on a metal table in front of him with her skin blackened from frostbite and her blue eyes lifeless.

For several long moments he just stared at the girl who had been sweet and curious and so full of life, and then he steeled himself to, for the second time in his life, dress a corpse.

* * *

><p>"Peeta was looking for you earlier," Cinna said as he finished carefully applying liquid eyeliner to Katniss' eyelids. "He said he wanted to apologize to you."<p>

"Did he? Well, even if he does apologize, I'm sure he'll just take it back when he sees I'm going out again tonight," she said.

Cinna looked her over. Her long lashes framing her striking gray eyes. Her full, crimson lips. Her body clothed in a strapless dress that barely reached her mid-thigh and that clung to her like a second skin. Her dark hair pinned in an elaborate updo, leaving her shoulders completely uncovered. "If Peeta sees you looking like this, I'm sure he'll be too busy trying to refrain from dragging you off into the nearest bedroom to form a coherent sentence," he countered. That was certainly Cinna's reaction.

…Not that he was going to tell her that. Ever.

She grimaced. "Yes, because I don't have enough men who want to drag me off into the nearest bedroom already."

"Point," he conceded. He brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face and peered at her in concern. "Are you sure you'll be all right? Your patron tonight isn't one of those violent types again, is he?"

"I'm not sure. I asked around, talked to Finnick and Cashmere and some of the other victors. They've never heard of him. I even mentioned him to Effie. No one knows anything about this guy." She shrugged, but Cinna could see that she was unnerved by this. Her patrons were usually well-known in the Capitol; there was always someone who had information about them if you dug deep enough.

"Try me," he said.

An oddly sheepish expression stole over her face. "I forgot his name," she admitted. "But I'm sure it'll be fine. I remember his address, and I wouldn't be surprised if he has a massive plaque with his name on it hanging on his front door. Capitol people are always such snobs." She wrinkled her nose.

He mock glared at her. "Should I be offended?"

She grinned back. "No. You're an exception."

"Am I now?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," she said. "You _are_." The way she dropped her voice on the last word, and then her tongue darting out to wet her lips, sent a shiver of desire down his spine.

Katniss noticed, and she laughed. "Sorry. Practicing."

Cinna rolled his eyes. "If you say so. Now come on, you'd better head down to the lobby and call the cab now if you want to get there on time."

"I _don't_ want to get there on time, actually," she grumbled. But she slid off the vanity desk and started for the door.

"Katniss," he said. She stopped in her tracks and looked back at him. Cinna stared at her and saw the little things. The tenseness in her shoulders. The slight trembling in her hands. The haunted look in her eyes that had replaced the amusement from just moments before.

His stomach churned. Every time he had to watch her walk out the door dressed up like a doll to be played with, he felt like they were back in the Launch Room and he was sending her off to her death. And sometimes when she came back, her eyes were every bit as lifeless as Clementine's had been as she laid there on that metal table.

"Cinna?"

He closed his eyes. "I'll walk you down."

There was a long pause.

"Okay."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I killed off those tributes rather quickly, didn't I? Oh well. <strong>

**Reviews are appreciated.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: The Flames Rose Higher**

**Warnings: See first chapter for warnings.**

**Notes: Thanks to the people who favourite this story and/or put it on alert, and special thanks to **Howlynn** for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the **_**Hunger Games**_** trilogy. I am not Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Flames Rose Higher<strong>

**Chapter Four – Katniss**

Katniss stabbed the button for the elevator repeatedly as she struggled to keep herself upright. The plan was to get to Finnick's room before she collapsed, preferably without being seen. Finnick himself was undoubtedly still with Antonia Davenport, his patron for the night. The woman was notorious for keeping her victors up all night and only letting them leave when the sun came up.

Finnick kept high-tech Capitol medical supplies in his room, the kind that could completely erase a wound, and Katniss planned to use them to deal with the worst of her injuries before she went to see Cinna, who always insisted on waiting up for her. It was his job to fix her up, but there were some things that she knew he just couldn't handle seeing and she did her best to protect him from them.

_Damn it,_ she thought, _is the elevator never going to reach this floor?_

The pain wasn't intensifying, but her resolve was weakening and she wasn't sure she'd be able to make it to Finnick's room without passing out. And if she passed out, someone would find her and take her to the twelfth floor, and Cinna would see everything—the whip marks, the knife gashes, the burns.

Not the usual rope burns, either, but actual _burns_ from dripping hot candle wax. Three barely decipherable words written on the inside of her thigh.

_Girl on Fire._

She couldn't ever let Cinna see that. He'd think it was his fault and would never forgive himself.

A shudder ran through her as she remembered biting her lip until it bled in an attempt to keep from crying out. Her patrons usually liked it when she screamed. Most of the time, she refused to give them the satisfaction.

She'd screamed tonight. Again and again and again. She hadn't been able to stop. She'd screamed until she thought her eardrums would burst and her throat would tear.

_Ding!_ The elevator doors were opening. Finally. But there was someone already in the elevator, and he did a double-take when he saw her.

"_Katniss?_" Frantic blue eyes took in the sight of her battered body.

_Damn it,_ she thought again, _no one was supposed to see._

Her head was spinning and the world was tilting and the floor was rushing up to meet her—but no, Peeta caught her before she could hit the ground. He held her waist too tightly, aggravating her wounds further, and she found that the pain was too much to bear.

"KATNISS! Katniss, hold on, just _hold on_—"

But she couldn't. She ignored Peeta' desperate pleas and instead slipped into blissful unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>When she woke up, she was lying in a hospital bed and covered in gauze.<p>

"What the…" she croaked. She tried to sit up, but a hand pushed her back down.

"Easy there, sweetheart. You're not supposed to sit up yet. Doctor's orders." Katniss turned her head to the side to find Haymitch sitting in a chair he'd pulled to the side of her bed.

Wait. Haymitch sitting at her bedside? And there wasn't a bottle anywhere in sight. There was something very wrong with this picture.

She cleared her throat and, in a voice that was slightly less hoarse, said, "What are you doing here? Where's your liquor?"

"Where's your gratitude?" he shot back crabbily. Then his face inexplicably softened and he said, "I'm glad you're all right, sweetheart. You gave Peeta a real scare."

Oh no. _Peeta_. Peeta had _seen_ her. Out of all the people who shouldn't have seen her like that, Peeta was at the top of the list. He wasn't supposed to know how much damage those men did to her. It would make him angry or suspicious, and she couldn't explain it to him because if she did—

"He knows, Katniss," Haymitch said, so soberly that she felt she must be having some kind of nightmare.

"He knows what?" _Please, please, _please_ don't say he knows about the forced prostitution._

"What do you think?"

She could feel the blood draining from her face. "No," she said in denial.

"Katniss, I had to tell him," he said quietly. "He saw, and I had to tell him."

If she hadn't been so weak, she would've tried to claw his face off with her nails. Instead she glared at him hatefully and said, "How could you? How could you, you traitorous—" She started cussing him out with every swear word she knew.

Haymitch just smirked at her. "I think you've been spending too much time with Johanna. Look, it's not the end of the world. So he knows now. He'll just pretend he doesn't. The kid's a good actor; no one will know the difference. We talked on the roof, not right in front of Snow's office. So calm down."

Katniss wanted to strangle him. "_Calm_ _down_? This room is probably bugged! I bet Snow heard every word you just said! And the roof obviously isn't safe either, because he found out about Cinna and me!"

"First of all, Beetee's been in here. He swept the place. There are no bugs in here, trust me." She really _didn't_ trust him right now, but she trusted Beetee. "Second, whoever ratted you out to Snow _saw_ you and Cinna kissing; they didn't _hear_ anything. If anyone saw me on the roof with Peeta, I'm sure they'd know I wasn't whispering sweet nothings in his ear, but I doubt they would assume I was explaining your—_job_ to him."

For a few tense moments, she didn't dare to believe him. Then, finally, she relaxed and asked, "How did Peeta take it?"

Her fellow victor snorted. "How do you think? He's just about gone crazy with guilt. Kid would probably be at your bedside right now, apologizing 'til his face turned blue, but I told him he needed to get some sleep and anyway, you would probably rather wake up to my charming face," he said sardonically.

Katniss actually cracked a smile. "Not on your life, you old drunk." Then she turned serious. "How long have I been in here?"

"Two days," he said. "Probably would've been less, but the doctors gave you morphling for the pain and it took a while to get out of your system."

"I don't suppose the Games are finished," she said hopefully.

"You wish," he said, and his tone told her that he wished it, too. "Doesn't make much difference to you, though. You're confined to your bed for the rest of it."

"_What_? You don't mean—" She couldn't find the words to finish her sentence.

"That's right, sweetheart." His voice was gentler than she had ever heard it. "No more appointments. Not until the Victory Tour, at least."

She should've been excited, but all she felt was horror. It took her a second to work out why. "But Snow will hate that, he'll lose so much money! Haymitch, I messed up! Victors aren't supposed to go to the hospital afterwards, because then the public will find out and— and—" She was shaking in fear. "He'll kill them," she moaned. "He'll kill Prim and my mother."

"No, he won't," Haymitch said, sounding strangely smug. "Not unless he wants to admit that a dangerous criminal escaped his inescapable, high security prison."

Katniss stared at him, trepidation and relief warring inside her. The relief won out. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she understood from his tone and the expression on his face that he believed her family was not in danger, and he'd never been wrong about that sort of thing before.

"Julius Lionel was your patron tonight, right?" She nodded. That had been the name on the plaque at the front door. "He doesn't exist. The Capitol keeps meticulous records on every citizen in Panem. There are no records on Julius Lionel. No birth certificate, no Capitol citizenship papers, nothing. He's not real."

"But—" She was dumbstruck. "But Snow must have known that. Finnick said they background check the patrons before they let them buy us—"

"Of course Snow knew," said Haymitch. "Guess he didn't care. The guy had money, and that was all that mattered."

"Well, it explains why no one recognized his name," she realized. "But if he's not Julius Lionel, then who is he? You said something about a dangerous criminal—"

"Gaius Mannox," he pronounced, as if the name meant anything to her. "He was arrested for the murder of his wife, Helvia, fourteen years ago. Sentenced to life in prison. Finnick found out last night from some high-up Capitol woman that Mannox escaped a couple of months ago. He's the first person to ever manage it. Snow had the authorities keep it quiet so people wouldn't panic."

She nodded slowly. So the guy was a murderer. She could believe that. "How did he kill her?" she asked, without knowing why it mattered to her at all.

For once, Haymitch looked uncomfortable. "They were, ah, c_elebrating_ their ten year wedding anniversary, and, well, the man's naturally violent and he said on trial that he got '_carried away_'…" he trailed off.

"Carried away," she repeated, laughing in bitter disbelief. "You mean like he got '_carried away_' with me?"

Her former mentor opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say anything Peeta appeared in the doorway. He was far too pale, with dark circles under his eyes and Katniss guessed that he hadn't slept at all despite Haymitch's orders.

"Katniss," he choked out. "Katniss, I'm so sorry—"

"Well, that's my cue to leave," Haymitch said. "I'll see you later, sweetheart." He surprised Katniss by leaning down and kissing her forehead, and then stood up swiftly and left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

Peeta walked over to the chair by her bedside and wearily sank into it. He stroked her hair and said again, "I'm so sorry."

She grasped his other hand in both of her own and said, "Don't be. It wasn't your fault."

He shook his head. "But all this time, I was blaming you. You didn't have a choice, you were trying to protect your family, you were trying to protect _me_, and I _blamed_ you."

"Peeta, you had every right to be angry," she insisted. She'd always imagined that if the moment ever came that he learned the truth, she would be bitter and resentful and refuse to accept his apology. But now all she could see were the unshed tears shining in his eyes, and all she wanted was to make them go away. "You didn't know what was really going on. You thought I was turning my back on you and totally disregarding your feelings. You thought I was being selfish and cruel. Of course you were mad."

"That wasn't what made me mad," he said quietly. Seeing the skeptical look on her face, he backtracked, "I mean, at first it was, but then I started thinking about _why_ you did what you did. I knew it wasn't about money. You had more than enough of that. So then I thought that maybe sleeping around was just your way of dealing with what happened in the Games and everything afterwards. And if that was true, if you were just trying to cope with the pain and the nightmares and the guilt, how could I possibly be mad at you for that, when I know how hard it all is?

"But then I started noticing how you almost always came back injured. And I realized that if all you wanted was to have a bit of fun or to feel loved or whatever, then you would've gone to me or Gale or Finnick or Cinna." Peeta was so focused on explaining that he didn't notice the way she reacted upon hearing the last name. "But instead you went to those Capitol strangers every night, and you let them hurt you, and I thought that maybe that was what you wanted. For them to hurt you. For them to make you suffer. And I was so angry at you for putting yourself through that. So angry at myself for letting it come to that, for not being able to make you happy."

"Peeta," she breathed. "Oh, _Peeta_, I thought you hated me."

He smiled a sad little smile. "I could never hate you, Katniss. There's nothing the Capitol could ever do to make me hate you."

They sat there in silence for a while. Peeta had stopped stroking her hair, but his hand was still clasped tightly in both of her own. She was acutely aware of the press of his wedding ring against her palm, and for once the sensation of her own wedding ring wrapped around her finger didn't flood her with guilt.

Finally, Peeta gently pulled his hand free and said, "The story is that you were attacked by one of Clementine's former sponsors. Apparently he bet everything on her, and he lost it all when she died. He wanted revenge, so he attacked you."

"Do people actually believe that?" she asked, incredulous.

"The Capitol citizens do. The victors don't. We're not sure about the districts, but your mother definitely doesn't believe it." He pulled something out of his pocket and then handed it to Katniss. "She's been calling every three hours for the past two days. You should call her back."

Katniss stared at the object in her hand. A small, cordless phone. She remembered hearing someone call it a cellphone.

"I'll leave to give you some privacy," Peeta said. He stood up.

Without any conscious command on her part, her hand shot out to grab his wrist and stop him from leaving.

They locked eyes and she whispered, "Stay with me."

Peeta didn't even hesitate. He settled back down in the chair and murmured, "Always."

* * *

><p>The conversation with Mrs. Everdeen went better than Katniss expected it to. They were both stiff and formal, but underneath that she heard genuine concern in her mother's voice. Prim snatched the phone from her mother and asked Katniss a lot of questions about how the doctors were treating her. Katniss answered as best she could without giving away the full extent of her injuries. It made her proud to hear her sister so in her element. At fourteen, she'd already learned most of what her mother had to teach her. She'd make a great healer someday.<p>

Eventually, Prim said goodbye and then handed the phone back to Mrs. Everdeen, who did the same. But before Katniss could hang up, she heard Gale's voice on the line, saying that Madge, Hazelle and the kids all sent their regards, and then: "We all hope you get better soon." He hung up before she could get over her complete and utter shock.

Madge was one of the few people that didn't treat her any differently in spite of all the gossip. When she'd first started dating Gale a few months ago, Katniss had been happy for them both, but she'd also been worried that Gale would forbid Madge from talking to her the way he'd forbidden his family. Her concern had proven to be unnecessary; Madge had refused point-blank to stop talking to Katniss and if Gale couldn't live with that, then he'd have to find another girlfriend. Gale, to Katniss' surprise, had given in. But he still wouldn't talk to Katniss himself or let his family talk to her.

So to hear his voice on the phone, to hear him say that they all hoped she better soon, himself included… It surprised her, but more than that, it made her feel hopeful. Hopeful that maybe someday their friendship could be repaired, that maybe someday, she'd hear him call her Catnip again.

* * *

><p>Over the next week, Katniss was confined to bed rest but was hardly ever alone. Peeta was with her most of the time and Haymitch visited often as well, which was good because Effie refused to visit while Haymitch was there. Katniss enjoyed Effie's company, but she could only handle about half an hour of the escort's perkiness at a time without wanting to slam her head against the wall.<p>

Finnick and Mags dropped in every day, always bringing sugar cubes with them; the first time they came Finnick jokingly said that he almost envied Katniss, because at least she didn't have to go to any appointments. Mags hit him with her cane. Then she turned back to Katniss and mumbled something about Annie sending her love, which was nice of the girl considering she'd only ever met Katniss once.

Johanna didn't come as often. She was too busy dealing with sponsors and talking up her tribute to people. She was the only female victor for her district, and she was determined to get her tribute Maple home this year so she wouldn't have to mentor for the rest of her life. District 7 was so far north that most people there grew up surrounded by snow and learned to skate before they could walk, a huge advantage considering the terrain of the arena. Maple was good with an ax, just like her mentor, and had gotten a nine in training. On top of all that, the old stylist for the District 7 female tributes had finally retired and the replacement was actually competent. Instead of being dressed as a tree for the Opening Ceremonies, Maple had been dressed as a dryad. Standing amidst the ice and snow of the arena, with her copper-colored hair flowing to her waist and her big brown eyes, she really did look a dryad in a winter wonderland. The girl had no shortage of sponsors. The Games were hers, no question, Johanna bragged. Then she added offhandedly, "It's a shame I can't stand her."

Beetee and Wiress came to visit together, and Katniss thanked the former for getting rid of the bugs in her room. Wiress had a present for her. "If you insert this chip into a computer terminal, it brings up a list," she started, but she was distracted by the flowers on Katniss' bedside table. Beetee continued for her: "A list of all those who have purchased time with a victor. You can find your patron on the list and you'll have access to their personal records. Wiress invented it herself so that this Lionel/Mannox mix-up won't happen again." Katniss, after being assured that the chip could not be traced back to her or the District 3 victors, thanked Wiress profusely.

The District 10 winner of the third Quarter Quell stopped by once to see how she was doing. The arena last year had functioned like a clock; twelve sections, twelve traps set by the Gamemakers that went off during their designated hour. Angus, who was deaf, had not heard the twelve chimes that sounded at midnight on the first day, but had still figured out the secret of the clock because he'd camped out at the Cornucopia and had seen the horrors start up in each section hour after hour. He'd ventured off into the six o-clock section and had tamed a muttation that had torn one of the other tributes into pieces. It had been wounded when he found it, which was probably the only reason it didn't kill him the second it saw him, and he'd nursed it back to health. The beast was built enough like a horse that he'd been able to ride it around the arena. He'd combed each section of the clock for the remaining tributes and, using a vine that he'd tied into a loop at the end, had lassoed his victims and then set his mutt on them. Needless to say, Katniss was not very fond of Angus and was quite glad when his visit ended.

Most of the careers who visited, like Enobaria, came simply to mock her. Cashmere and Gloss, however, were sympathetic—which would have surprised Katniss, if she hadn't known that the sister and brother had been sold too, once upon a time.

The morphlings from District 6 came bearing a get-well card with childish drawings on it that they had clearly made themselves. Katniss smiled at them and told them it was the sweetest gift she'd ever received.

Seeder, Chaff, Cecilia, Woof, Blight… The majority of her visitors were her fellow victors. It was almost funny, how much easier it was to be around them than other people from the districts. Maybe that was because the victors were all so broken that all they had to do was chip away at themselves until they fit together perfectly, like matching puzzle pieces.

* * *

><p>"So tell me again why Cinna hasn't visited me at all?" Katniss asked.<p>

Portia sighed and ran a hand through her dark purple hair. The strange hair color was the only alteration she had, and Katniss had to admit that it suited her just as much as Cinna's gold eyeliner suited him. "I told you," Peeta's stylist said. "He's busy designing."

"Designing what? The outfits for next year's tributes?" Katniss demanded incredulously. "I know he's a workaholic, but that's just too ridiculous, even for him."

Portia studied her for several long moments before finally saying, "You know what? I'm just going to tell you the truth. Cinna will get over it."

The black-haired girl stared at her expectantly. "Well?"

"He's avoiding you," Portia said bluntly. "I don't know why. He didn't say. But ever since you were attacked—" The slight emphasis she put on the word 'attacked' told Katniss that Portia probably knew the truth, or at least knew that the public story was a lie. "—he's been locking himself up in his room and designing nonstop."

"Did I do something wrong? Is he mad at me?" Her stomach clenched at the thought. Cinna was never mad at her.

The dark-skinned woman shook her head helplessly. "I really don't know. You'd have to ask him."

"Great idea, except how am I supposed to ask if he won't even visit me?" Katniss' tone was more irritated than she'd intended it to be. She knew this wasn't Portia's fault. It was just that, once again, she was frustrated due to Cinna's inexplicable actions. That man was going to drive her insane.

Portia's eyebrows, which matched her hair, shot up. "What makes you think he won't?"

"Um, the fact that he's _avoiding me_?"

"Look, just because he's been avoiding you doesn't mean he hasn't visited you," Portia said cryptically.

"That makes no sense," Katniss griped.

"It will if you put some thought into it. Now." She stood up. "I've got to go, but I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," Katniss said, deflating. "Swear you'll keep the prep teams away from me?" She really was fond of Octavia, Venia, and Flavius, and Peeta's prep team wasn't so bad, but they'd cried and fussed and exclaimed over her marred figure so much that she'd wanted to shoot them all in the head with her bow and arrows.

"I'll do my best," Portia promised, and she left, giving Katniss a smile over her shoulder.

Katniss thought about what Portia had said for a long time. _"Look, just because he's been avoiding you doesn't mean he hasn't visited you." _So he'd visited her, but she hadn't noticed? Was that what Portia meant? But there was no possible way Katniss wouldn't have noticed. Unless…

She looked at the sleeping pills a nurse had brought her. She wasn't going to take them. She was going to stay awake all night, and if Cinna visited, she was going to demand an explanation.

It didn't matter if he didn't want to talk to her. She wasn't going to give him a choice.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I'm sure you all have your own image of Portia which probably does not include purple hair and may or may not include dark skin, but after I saw Regendy's version of her on deviantart, I just can't imagine her looking any different. <strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: The Flames Rose Higher**

**Warnings: See first chapter for warnings.**

**Notes: Thanks to the people who favourite this story and/or put it on alert, and special thanks to **inkspire**, **brandy1119**, **Howlynn**, **tipsyapple**, **Temple**, **Sullen Gurl**, **snowspell**,** CINNA L0VER**,** Dontforgetwhereyougotme** and **S. Bell **for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the **_**Hunger Games**_** trilogy. I am not Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Flames Rose Higher<strong>

**Chapter Five – Cinna**

Cinna stood in the doorway of the hospital room, his eyes fixed on the girl sprawled across the bed. The moon shone through the window slats, providing just enough light for him to notice the way Katniss' chest rose and fell evenly as her breath flowed in and out, the way her facial features were completely relaxed, the way her limbs were tangled up in the blankets. He determined that she was indeed fast asleep and it was safe for him to enter the room, so he quietly shut the door behind him and sat down in the chair by Katniss' bed.

She looked younger when she slept. Even when she was having a nightmare, she looked younger. Not as frigid, not as guarded, not as unaffected by everything as she pretended to be to everyone else. But he didn't judge her for pretending, because he did exactly the same thing. And now that he had finally found he couldn't just pretend his problems away, he avoided them. Ran from them.

Or maybe he'd always been running. Maybe pretending that he wasn't bothered by anything was just another form of running away.

He sighed and raked a hand through his short-cropped hair. This was different, though. He was doing the right thing by avoiding Katniss, and the wrong thing by coming to visit her while she slept. Haymitch had promised that he hadn't told her, but if she found out the truth Cinna knew that she wouldn't want anything to do with him.

The truth. It was his fault that Gaius Mannox had nearly killed her. Cinna was sure of it. He'd seen the burns on the inside of her thigh—_Girl on Fire_. That was a message to him. That was Gaius Mannox's way of letting him know that he'd bought a night with Katniss for the singular purpose of hurting Cinna.

He'd been afraid for so long that dredging up his past would hurt him, he'd never even considered that by avoiding it someone else would get hurt.

But someone had. Katniss. Spirited, compassionate, fiery Katniss.

"_I burn anyone who gets too close to me," _she'd said on the rooftop more than a week ago. Ha. That should've been his line.

He gazed at Katniss and remembered seeing her bloodied body in Peeta's arms while the blue-eyed boy screamed and pleaded for her to stay with him. And then Peeta had started spending every possible moment sitting at her bedside, and Cinna had heard Effie squealing about how the star-crossed lovers might soon go back to being actual _lovers_.

Between her near-death experience and her reconciliation with Peeta, Cinna had come to realize that his feelings for Katniss went far beyond deep friendship and straightforward attraction. Of course he'd always loved her; at first for what she represented—strength and courage and defiance of the Capitol's corrupt ways—and then, once he really _knew_ her, for who she was as a person.

What he felt for her now… He'd never felt anything so overwhelming, so _vivid_, to the point where the feeling consumed him body and soul and he couldn't tell where it ended and where he began. He knew he hadn't fallen in love with her, but he could see he was headed in that direction.

One of Katniss' arms rested on top of the blanket. The sleeves of her hospital gown didn't even reach her elbow. Carefully, tentatively, he reached out a hand and lightly trailed his fingers along the bare skin of her forearm.

_I shouldn't be doing this,_ he thought to himself. _If she knew who I was_ _my touch would repulse her. _

He pressed his thumb to the pulse point at her wrist. And thought that maybe he could deal with her hating him as long as he kept the memory of her steady heartbeat in his mind.

He pulled his hand back and stared down at it. "I'm sorry," he murmured in barely audible voice.

"What are you sorry for?"

His head snapped up. Katniss' eyes were open and she was watching him intently.

"You're supposed to be asleep— They give you sleeping pills every night—" He was too stunned to effectively communicate his thoughts.

She snorted derisively and said, "Because otherwise you wouldn't have come, right? You should definitely be apologizing for _that_." Before he could respond, she continued, "A murderer puts me in the hospital and you don't even bother to visit me? Even _Enobaria_ came to visit me."

"I did visit you," he protested. "I've visited you every day of the past week."

"It doesn't count if I'm not conscious." Then, in an angry voice that didn't quite mask her hurt, she said, "What, is it that much of a chore to actually have to talk to me?"

"No, I—" He sighed wearily. "Katniss, don't be ridiculous."

"Well, what am I supposed to think?" She sat up and crossed her arms.

"I wanted to talk to you," he said, "but I didn't think _you_'d want to talk to _me_."

Confusion stole over her face, quickly followed by suspicion. "Now who's being ridiculous? Why wouldn't I want to talk to you?"

"Katniss, you almost died—" he began, but Katniss cut him off.

"You're exaggerating. It wasn't that bad. Worse than usual, but I wasn't in danger of dying. I mean, I guess I might've been if I'd passed out and no one found me 'til morning came, but—"

"It was my fault," Cinna interrupted.

"Your fault," she repeated. She stared at him incredulously. "How could it possibly be your fault?"

"Katniss, I know Gaius Mannox. I'm part of the reason he was sent to prison. He knows I care about you and he hurt you to get back at me." That was the short version. The version that revealed the least amount of incriminating information.

"You _know_ him? And you got him thrown in prison? How? Haymitch said all that happened fourteen years ago, you would've only been nine years old—" She broke off abruptly and paled. "He didn't— He didn't do to you what he did to his wife and to me, did he?"

"No, no, nothing like that," he answered hurriedly. "I knew Helvia and I knew that he hit her occasionally. When she was murdered, I told the Peacekeepers what I knew and Mannox was arrested. During his trial, I testified against him and he was convicted."

His explanation was too vague and he expected Katniss to call him on it, but instead she said, "And because of this, you think you're responsible for what happened to me?"

"He wanted revenge against me," Cinna said.

Katniss' eyes turned steely. Cinna's heart sank. This, then, would be the part where she kicked him out and ordered him to stay away from her for the rest of their lives. "Did you break Gaius Mannox out of prison?" Katniss asked coolly. "Did you sell me to him for a night? Did you tell him to be extra violent with me? No? Then I don't see how it could possibly be your fault."

It took Cinna a few moments to process her words. "But I—"

"But nothing," she practically snarled at him. "You told me that even though I pulled out those berries and almost started a rebellion, I wasn't to blame for all the people that died trying to follow my example. You said it was Snow's fault, you said that I wasn't responsible because I didn't intend for them to die and I would've done anything to save them. Don't your own rules apply to you? Are you held to some higher moral standard than I am, or have you just been lying to me this entire time?"

He was struck speechless. What was he supposed to say to that? Was she right? Was it really not his fault that she'd been hurt? Would she still be saying that if she knew the whole story?

Katniss drew her knees up to her chest and said, "You know, you always tell me that I don't have to hide what I'm feeling from you, because I can always count on you to be there for me, to not judge me. But…you never let me see what you're feeling. You never let me in but then you say that you need me as much as I need you and—you really don't. You don't trust me, you don't count on me, you don't need me."

The look on her face… It was like he was hurting her more than her lingering injuries were. He thought about what an amazing feeling it was to know that Katniss trusted him, to know that she opened up to him despite her skeptical nature.

He was a hypocrite. He called himself her friend, said that she was his friend, told her that friends depended on each other. But he didn't depend on her, and still he expected her to depend on him, _asked_ her to depend on him.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. His voice broke a little on the last word. "I'm just so used to channeling my emotions into my work, so that I don't hurt anyone but myself."

Katniss motioned for him to sit beside her, so he sat down on her bed. "That's stupid. If you hurt yourself, you're hurting me." She placed her hands on either side of his face. "Because I care about you, and I don't want you to be in pain."

He rested his forehead against hers. He wanted to kiss her, but it wasn't Haymitch's warning that held him back. It was the knowledge that he still hadn't told her the full story, and she probably wouldn't want to kiss him once he had.

He pulled away from her and her hands fell to her sides. He could tell from the way she dropped her gaze that she was embarrassed.

"Katniss," he said. She lifted her eyes to his face. "Did I ever tell you my last name?"

"No," she said, looking perplexed, probably because the question seemed random to her. "You didn't."

"Mannox. That's my last name. Or it was."

Katniss froze. "Mannox. As in…"

"As in Gaius Mannox is my father," he said flatly. "Helvia was my mother. Like I said, I knew he hit her occasionally, but that was all I knew. My father was never a kind man, but at the time I never imagined he was capable of murder. Later I realized that there was a lot more going on in my house than I noticed when I was a kid."

The black-haired girl was quiet for a few seconds. Then she said, "So that's why you ended up in District Five? Your mother was murdered and your father was sent to prison?"

The time he'd spent in District 5 was the only part of his childhood that he had told Katniss about. She'd been curious about why his accent wasn't as bad as most Capitol citizens. So he'd told her the truth: he'd lived in an orphanage in District 5 for nine years of his life until he'd been sent back to the Capitol at eighteen to study designing at a prestigious college.

Those nine years had shown him that the Capitol was not as wonderful as he'd been led to believe. His name had never been in the reaping ball, but all the other kids at the orphanage were required to take out tesserae every year. The rest of the population could usually manage without it, so the result was that he'd seen his friends, or at least people he'd grown up with and knew fairly well, reaped year after year after year.

"Yes, that's why. Most of the crimes that take place in the Capitol have to do with money, not violence. Murder is very uncommon, and it reflects badly on President Snow. He wanted to erase the memory of my father's trial, and to do that he had to get rid of me. So he had me renounce my last name and sent me to District Five."

He waited for her to take back what she said about this whole mess not being his fault. But she didn't. Instead, she slid nearer to him and put her arms around him.

"I don't care who your father is. I don't care what he's done to me. You've never done anything to hurt me. You've always been there for me, and nothing else matters."

He pulled her closer, buried his face in her silky hair. If Katniss didn't blame him, then maybe he didn't need to blame himself.

* * *

><p>The Games ended the next day. The remaining three tributes, Maple and the boy and the girl from District 1, were driven together by mutts that at first glance appeared to be polar bears.<p>

There were real polar bears in the arena, of course, as well as penguins, seals, timber wolves, snow rabbits, Arctic foxes and many other animals that normally made their home in freezing cold climates, most of which the tributes had killed and eaten at some point.

Then there had been the mutts. Caribou that were carnivorous and took down prey with their massive, powerful antlers. Walruses with poisonous tusks that could sink right through a person's stomach. Birds that swooped in to gauge out eyeballs with their razor-sharp talons.

But the polar bear mutts… They were twelve feet tall, weighed twice as much as a regular polar bear but moved twice as fast, and had ten-inch long claws. Two separate groups of mutts chased the three tributes (the District 1 kids were in an alliance and so were travelling together) through the maze until their paths collided.

The District 1 boy lunged for Maple at the exact same time that one of the mutts took a swing at her. Maple dived out of the way and the beast's claws slashed through the boy's torso. The cannon fired and the District 1 girl, enraged at her partner's death, charged at Maple, who ducked under her spear and shoved the other girl to the ground. Then she brought her ax down and sliced the Career's pretty head clean off.

Cinna was with Katniss when it happened. His face, Katniss later told him, turned a rather spectacular shade of green. He had to stop himself from throwing up all over the hospital bed.

Katniss just grimaced and said, "I hope Annie didn't see that."

* * *

><p>Maple spent three days in recovery. Cinna spent three days glued to Katniss' side to make up for all the time he'd spent avoiding her. The Closing Ceremonies, Victory Banquet and post-Games interview all passed in a blur, and before he knew it Katniss was out of the hospital and ready to board the train home.<p>

"Well, I guess this is it," Peeta said, smiling at Cinna as he shook the older man's hand. Katniss was standing a few feet away, saying goodbye to Portia. "I'll see you in three months."

Every three months, a camera crew traveled to the homes of popular victors and filmed a special segment on their talents. As Cinna was supposedly Katniss' fashion hero and she his protégé, he was expected to be there. Cinna didn't really mind because it gave him an excuse to see Katniss.

"Before that, maybe, if Antonia Davenport really is holding that Gala in a few weeks." He clapped Peeta on the back. "You take care of yourself, and your wife." The last word left a bitter taste in his mouth, the way it always did. It wasn't because of jealousy or some hatred of Peeta; Cinna actually quite liked Peeta, and he very much admired the boy for his intrinsic goodness and his refusal to lose himself to the Capitol and their wicked games. No, Cinna hated calling Katniss Peeta's wife, hated calling Peeta Katniss' husband, because he hated the fact that they'd been forced to marry. He hated the fact that they hadn't had a choice.

Peeta laughed. "You know perfectly well that Katniss can take care of herself better than I can."

"Good answer," said a voice from behind Cinna. When he turned, he saw Katniss standing there in her lilac summer dress, a smirk on her face. "Stop monopolizing my stylist. You've got your own."

Peeta put up his hands in good-natured surrender. "Hey, I was waiting for you to finish with Portia for at least five minutes. What were you two even talking about?"

"Girl things," Katniss said dismissively. "Now scram."

Peeta laughed again, kissed his fellow victor's cheek, and strode over to where Portia stood.

Katniss watched him go, a fond smile gracing her lips. Cinna, on the other hand, was watching her until she turned to look at him.

"So," he said as casually as he could. "Must be nice to have Peeta back, huh?"

Despite his resolution to be more open with Katniss, he hadn't been able to gather the courage to ask her what was going on between her and Peeta. Even now he couldn't come out and ask directly. He was too afraid of what her answer might be.

"I suppose," she said slowly, her voice quiet so that prying ears would be less likely to overhear her. "I mean, I missed him a lot and I'm glad he's not angry at me anymore, but… I don't know. It's just not the same as it was before. I don't need him the way I used to."

"Oh? Do you have any idea why that is?" His heart was beating so loud in his ears that he thought Katniss might've been able to hear it.

She stared at him for a long moment. Color bloomed in her cheeks and she whispered, "Well I think— I think maybe it's because—"

"Sweetheart, hurry up! The train's leaving any minute now!" Haymitch hollered from the train.

Disappointment flooded though Cinna, but he just hugged Katniss and said, "See you soon."

She stepped out of his embrace, kissed his cheek, and then walked away without looking back.

* * *

><p>It was two weeks later when Cinna got the call. He was talking to Portia, who was curled up in one of the antique armchairs that his mother had left to him in her will. The female stylist had her sketchbook in her lap and was tapping the eraser of her pencil against it.<p>

"So since you're the one who feels the need to design our tribute's outfits a year early, why don't _you _volunteer some ideas?" Portia asked, her tone a cross between affectionate exasperation and deep amusement.

"I told you, we're not _designing_ the outfits, we're just brainstorming," he patiently reminded her. After all, if she could put up with his obsessive-compulsive habits, it was only fair that he put up with her tendency to require him to repeat his explanations at least ten times before they sank in. Although that was only necessary when he was being completely ridiculous.

Well. So she said.

"Right," she said, rolling her dark eyes. "We should—"

She was interrupted by the phone ringing.

Cinna was sprawled on the couch and really didn't want to move, but after six rings he figured it must be important, so he got up, apologized to Portia and went to the kitchen to answer it.

He knew it wasn't Katniss, because he'd gotten off the phone with her barely an hour ago. She'd said something about having to deliver medicine to some of her mother's patients, and then she'd hung up.

It might've been Plutarch, Haymitch, or someone else involved in the rebellion, in which case he would have to be even more mindful of what he said than usual because Portia was here. It wasn't that he didn't trust her to keep the information a secret; it was that the more she knew the more danger she was in. Even if he hadn't come to regard her as a good friend, he wouldn't have wanted her to be in danger because of his carelessness.

"Hello," he said.

"Are you Cinna Mannox?" a sharp, unfamiliar male voice asked.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. No one ever used his last name anymore. "Yes, may I ask who this is?" he replied in a controlled voice.

His question was ignored. "President Snow requests your presence at his mansion in half an hour."

His composure slipped and he nearly dropped the phone. "_What?_"

The man repeated his statement, then identified himself as one of President Snow's secretaries. "Don't be late," was the last thing he said before he hung up on Cinna.

He walked back into the living room where Portia was waiting. She took one look at his face and said, "Are you all right?" She sounded alarmed.

"Fine," he said, and to his relief his voice didn't waver. "But I have to go. I've got a meeting with President Snow in half an hour." There was no point in lying. Portia knew he didn't have any prior engagements and President Snow was one of the few people who was important enough that Cinna had to drop everything the moment the man asked.

Alarm changed to a mixture of horror and muted panic. "Why? What does he want with you?"

He couldn't think of anything to say except: "I wish I knew."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I wanted to give Cinna some background, because so far the chapters in Cinna's POV have mostly just focused on his interactions with Katniss. I picked District 5 because I read somewhere that they have a low amount of kids signing up for tesserae, which fit Cinna's story: the majority of the kids don't need tesserae, so the kids at the orphanage are almost always the ones to be reaped. <strong>

**Reviews are appreciated.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: The Flames Rose Higher**

**Warnings: See first chapter for warnings.**

**Notes: Thanks to anyone with the patience to still be reading this. Also, thanks to the people who favourited this story and/or put it on alert, and special thanks to **Sajna18**, **Sullen Gurl**, **S. Bell**, **CINNAL0VER**, **S1R1US L0V3R**, **LeightonAliceAphrodite**, **CoyKit**,** amyleann**, **Takeiteasycharlie**, **Tayler Snape13**, **Ana**, **agirlnamedraven**, **Ninja Star Light**, **Bloodredfirefly**, **CosPalp**, **Artemesia-Hime**, **vampirefairy09**,** Blue Dot77 **and** sydsyd22 **for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the **_**Hunger Games**_** trilogy. I am not Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Flames Rose Higher<strong>

**Chapter Six – Katniss**

"Listen, I have to go," Katniss said almost regretfully. "I'm meeting Madge in a little while."

"Say hello to her for me, and to your mother and Prim as well," Cinna said. His voice always sounded different over the phone—a little deeper, maybe—but it was still familiar and in its familiarity, comforting.

"Of course. I might even drop in on Haymitch," she said casually, and waited to hear the change in his tone, to hear it become strained and mistrustful, as it always did whenever either of them mentioned Haymitch recently. When he didn't respond after a minute, she conceded defeat. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, then," he agreed softly.

Tomorrow, she promised herself as she hung up, she would try again to wheedle the truth out of Cinna. Tomorrow she would try to figure out what exactly his sudden problem with Haymitch was. Most likely she wouldn't get anything out of him until they saw each other in person, which would still be difficult because Cinna usually had an excellent poker face.

It bothered her more than she liked to admit, how easy it was for him to lie to her when he really wanted to. Almost as easy as it was for Haymitch.

_I'm surrounded by liars,_ she realized, and chose not to think about the fact that she lied to herself more often than anyone else lied to her.

Thin arms wrapped around her from behind. "What's got you looking so grumpy?"

"I'm not grumpy," Katniss protested, turning around to embrace her sister back.

"Oh, but you are," Prim said as she pulled away, grinning. "You almost always are, but not after getting off the phone with Cinna, which is why I'm so surprised."

"Whatever you're trying to imply, you're wrong," she answered automatically, then inwardly cursed herself because Prim had probably meant her statement to be completely innocent. Katniss was more than a little disturbed by where her mind had jumped first, and resolved to spend less time with Finnick and Johanna, who were surely responsible for corrupting her.

"I wasn't trying to imply that you've been having phone sex with him." Prim rolled her eyes at the way her older sister cringed. "I'm not twelve anymore, I do know these things."

"I know," Katniss said, "I just wish you didn't." Because it was so hard, to accept that Prim was growing older and older and older and she'd never stop, just like everyone else. To accept that after everything she'd seen, everything she'd been through, Prim was no longer a child.

But she should've been. That was what hurt so much.

"Don't," Prim said, like she knew exactly what her sister was thinking. "Don't let it get to you, I hate to see you sad."

She was so undeniably earnest that Katniss had to smile. "You know, when I was fourteen, I certainly didn't know what phone sex was."

"That's because you didn't know what a phone was, period."

"Sometimes," a voice interrupted, "I worry about you two."

They turned simultaneously to the doorway of the study to find their mother standing there, shaking her head at them in what was clearly fond exasperation.

Despite herself, Katniss stiffened. Her mother had been much more understanding since she'd returned home from the Capitol, still not quite fully recovered from her injuries. The female victor wasn't sure just how much she knew, but it was evidently more than she had before the so-called "attack".

But that new understanding didn't erase all the arguments they'd had—the shouted accusations, the slamming of doors, the days of bitter silence that followed.

"_You have no right to judge me!" _she'd screamed at her mother once, in the middle of a particularly bad fight. "_You have no right, how is what I'm doing any worse than you shutting down after Father died and leaving your own children to _starve—_"_

She locked eyes with her mother now, and could see that they both knew there was no way back. Back to those happy years when her father was still alive and she hadn't yet truly realized that parents weren't invincible, they weren't perfect, and sometimes, sometimes the only person you could really depend on was yourself. Back to when she'd believed, with naïve, childish certainty, that her parents would always take care of her.

Her mother's abandonment had broken something between them, and in the past couple of years any chance of fixing things had been utterly destroyed. But they could try to let it go, for Prim's sake. Her mother could try to give her the support she should've been offering all along. Katniss could try not to close herself off and instead accept the help.

"So," said Prim, looking from her mother to her sister, "aren't you going to Madge's soon, Katniss?"

"Yes," Katniss said, breaking the eye contact. "I'll see you both later."

_Have fun, _they told her. _Be careful._ As if she wasn't always.

* * *

><p>She made it about five steps out the door before running into Peeta, who was just leaving the house that he still lived in alone, though officially it belonged to both of them. He had a bag of flour tucked under his arm, and she guessed he was headed for the bakery. He didn't need the money, and neither did his parents or his brothers and their families, seeing as he was rich enough to provide for them all at least three times over. But she knew Peeta loved to bake, just as much as he loved painting. Just as much as she still loved hunting, though it had been nearly two years since she'd last stepped foot in the woods.<p>

"Hey." He smiled at her. "Where are you going?"

They made small talk for a while, chatting about how wonderful the weather was (clear skies and a nice cool breeze), how their days had gone. An odd look crossed Peeta's face when she mentioned her phone call with Cinna, but he didn't say anything about it at first. She said she was on her way to Madge's, he explained that he was going to the bakery to take over his oldest brother's shift and that he was bringing the bag of flour because they were low on supplies.

The conversation halted for a while, and the silence carried them all the way out of the village. They were still a fair distance from the square when Peeta spoke up.

"So…"

"So?"

"I'm not blind," he said. Before Katniss could do anything more than raise an eyebrow in response to that rather obvious statement, Peeta took a deep breath and continued, "I notice things. Things like whatever is going on between you and Cinna."

Katniss stiffened, her steps faltering, her mind racing. Peeta slowed down a bit and waited patiently for her to regain her composure.

It took a few seconds, but finally she was able to get out: "What do you mean, whatever's going on between me and Cinna? We're friends, you know that."

"I thought I did." There was a brief pause, and then he said, "Look, I'm not trying to accuse you of anything. I learned my lesson; I know you wouldn't go behind my back like that."

She tried not to squirm uncomfortably, because the truth was she almost had. She'd been so bitter, she'd hardly cared about what Peeta's reaction would be if she started something with Cinna. If it wasn't for Cinna's obvious (and hurtful, but she could barely admit it in her head, let alone out loud) reluctance and Haymitch's warning, she was almost certain she would have.

"I know you're friends," Peeta said quietly. "But I also know that you'd like to be more. And so would he."

And there it was, the feeling that had been noticeably absent for the past few weeks, the feeling that her wedding ring was suddenly too heavy to hold up, wrapped too tightly around her finger for her blood to circulate properly.

"I thought," he started. He shook his head ruefully. "I thought, after that day in the hospital, when we talked… I thought maybe you really did—_love_ me."

"I do," she protested. "Of course I do, how could I not after everything we've been through—"

"But it's not the same, is it? It's not the way I love you."

There was only the sound of gravel being crunched beneath their feet as Katniss quickly considered and tossed away about a hundred replies.

Finally she decided on simply blurting out something that had been festering in the back of her mind for a very long time, something that she instinctively recognized as the truth, something that soothed the burn of her guilt and shame, something that might just set Peeta free.

"It is the same." A shadow of anger stole over Peeta's features, but Katniss insisted, "No, it is. I'm not lying to you. I love you exactly the same way you love me—but not the way you used to."

"What do you mean?" He sounded confused, but also defensive.

"I mean that you're not in love with me anymore." She could see him struggling to register what she'd just said, and she tried to make it clearer. "You never really knew me, before the Games. I was some sort—goddess to you or something. You put me on a pedestal. And that's what you really loved all along. That idealized version of me that you had in your head. But I was never that girl, Peeta, and I think you started to see that when we came home from the Games and you found out that I'd just been pretending to love you to get us both out of that arena alive. And then you had to watch me sneak from one man's bed to another for more than a year…and things changed even more, because now we can't go back. The love you had for the girl you believed to be perfect—of course it's gone, now that you know she was never real."

They'd stopped in the middle of the path the moment Katniss had begun her explanation, and now they simply stared at each. Then Peeta shook his head in denial.

"No, I— That's ridiculous, I love you— I've always loved you—"

"You do love me," she murmured, "but you're not _in _love with me. And I think maybe you've known that longer than I have, but you didn't want to admit it."

"You're wrong."

"Am I?"

Peeta clenched his eyes shut. "I don't know." His voice cracked on the last word. He opened his eyes and gave her a shaky smile. "Give me a while to think about it?"

"Of course," she said. Then, blinking hard (but only because the sun was in her eyes) she said (in a voice that most certainly did not break like Peeta's had): "I just don't want you to hurt over me anymore."

He nodded, took her hand, and together they started back down the path.

* * *

><p>It still hit her like a wrecking ball sometimes, how much District 12 had changed in the past few days. The square that had always seemed festive to her was now taken over by Peacekeepers and the equipment they used for their various methods of punishment. And of course, towering above everything, a banner with the seal of Panem.<p>

Most people knew by now to keep their heads down and simply follow the rules, but every so often the Head Peacekeeper and his underlings would make up an excuse to discipline someone just to flaunt their authority. Hangings were rare, but they happened if Thread was in a bad mood.

It all made her miss the old Peacekeepers, the ones she'd grown up with and traded with and, in the case of Darius, laughed with.

Darius, who had tried to interfere in Gale's whipping and who she hadn't seen since, though she'd heard rumours that he'd been turned into an Avox.

Sometimes when she was _really_ fed up with the new regime, she even missed Cray. He at least had allowed and even helped the Hob to thrive. Thread, on the other hand, had burned it to the ground.

Katniss tried to help out the former Hob traders, but most of them wouldn't take money or even food. Her reputation for sleeping with every Capitol man that moved (and there were rumours about a few women, too, which were true) had made them wary of her. If she was lucky, that was. Some of them were absolutely disgusted with her and refused to even open the door whenever she came by.

Despite everything, Katniss had to admire them. They were starving, but they had enough pride left that they wouldn't take handouts from someone they perceived as a Capitol puppet. Their spirits weren't completely broken.

Greasy Sae wouldn't take handouts, either, but that was because she didn't need them. She was resourceful, and she'd found a way to make a living without the Hob. She must've heard all the talk about Katniss, but she never mentioned it, never showed even a trace of the disdain Katniss got from others.

"Katniss?" Peeta squeezed her hand, jerking her out of her thoughts. "This is the bakery."

"Right," she said. "I'll see you later for dinner?" She could see Peeta's mother glowering at her through the window of the cheerily lit bakery, waiting for him to come in. In a way, Mrs. Mellark's scorn was almost comforting. She'd hated Katniss long before the 74th Hunger Games, and she still hated her now. To her, Katniss' string of Capitol lovers was just another thing to sneer at the victor for, not a betrayal of everything the people of the Districts stood for.

Admittedly, most of the town dwellers weren't personally offended like those from the Seam were. According to Haymitch, she'd brought the people from the Seam hope. She'd represented rebellion, defiance, change. And then she'd turned her back on them. The town dwellers, while clearly holding her in contempt for being unfaithful to her husband, had mostly just seemed happy to have something new to gossip about.

"Of course," Peeta said. He squeezed her hand one last time and then released her. He paused just as he was about to cross the threshold into the bakery. Holding the door open with one arm, bag of flour hefted in the other, he looked at her over his shoulder. "I'll bring you a cheese bun."

"Thanks," Katniss called as the door swung shut behind him. Before she could continue on her way, the door opened again and Peeta's oldest brother, Rye, stepped out. He nodded at her and she nodded back. He was about as nice to her as he possibly could be, given the circumstances.

She watched him hurry up the path in the general direction of the home he shared with his wife and her ailing father. Then she turned and walked away.

* * *

><p>She arrived at the Mayor's house several minutes late, but she knew Madge wouldn't mind. She said hello to the girl's parents, who answered the door when she knocked, surprised to see Mrs. Undersee out of bed.<p>

"Madge is upstairs in her room," the mayor said. There was an odd, trembling excitement in his voice. His wife, Katniss noticed, was beaming uncontrollably, her eyes shiny with tears.

The Seam girl trudged upstairs, wondering what they were so happy about. Madge's door was ajar and two familiar voices could be heard from inside the room. She didn't really register who the male voice belonged to until she was standing in the doorway. She froze, her mouth half-open to greet her blond friend, and stared at Gale.

He looked up, seeming to feel her gaze on him, and stiffened. Madge touched his arm and smiled at Katniss like today was the happiest day of her life and Katniss' presence made it even better.

"Katniss, I'm so glad you're here," she said, and her voice was filled with such genuine warmth that the gray-eyed girl had to smile back despite the shock of seeing Gale.

"What's everyone so excited about? I thought your father was going to burst into song when I saw him downstairs."

Gale and Madge looked at each other, and Katniss glanced between them, her eyes darting to Madge's left hand. It was bare of an engagement ring, but that didn't mean anything. She doubted Gale could afford one.

Her former best friend dragged his gaze away from the girl Katniss was fairly sure was now his fiancé, and cleared his throat. "We're having a baby," he said bluntly.

Katniss blinked, her mind reeling. Well, she certainly hadn't been expecting that.

Babies. Babies sounded like a very bad idea, given that they all lived in a country where children slaughtered each other on live television. But Madge looked so happy, and Gale…

"_I never want to have kids."_

"_I might, if I didn't live here."_

Gale had clearly wanted kids more than he'd ever let on to her. There was a fierce joy lurking in his eyes that she had never seen before.

"Congratulations," Katniss said sincerely. "That's wonderful."

Madge hugged her so tightly she could hardly breathe, and she stared at Gale over the expecting mother's shoulder.

He seemed to have a furious internal debate for a few seconds, before finally saying, "Thanks, Catnip."

Their elation must've been contagious, Katniss decided, because she could think of no other reason for why she was fighting back tears.

* * *

><p>The next couple of weeks flew by. Prim was ecstatic at the news of the baby, and when Katniss ran into Hazelle while the older woman was cleaning Haymitch's kitchen, Hazelle told her, sounding thoroughly choked up, that she'd always wanted grandchildren and that Rory, Vick and Posy were nearly bouncing through the roof at just the thought of having a niece or a nephew.<p>

Before she knew it, she, Peeta and Haymitch were on the train to the Capitol to attend Antonia Davenport's Gala. Someone—she suspected Cinna and Portia—had evidently convinced Effie that there was no need for her to travel to District 12 and meet them at the train station, for which Katniss was extremely grateful. It meant Haymitch could drink and Peeta could paint and Katniss could plan her attack strategy for getting Cinna to confess whatever was wrong in peace.

She holed herself up in her garment car under the pretense of deciding what to wear for when she arrived. Though Katniss had no real interest in fashion, she knew enough by now that she was allowed to dress herself for the five minutes it would take for them to get from the train station to the Training Center, at which point the prep team would descend upon her.

Her solitude lasted for three whole hours, during which she came up with three equally unfeasible options. She could get Cinna ridiculously drunk and hope he spilled his guts, she could aim her bow at his head and tell him if he didn't spill his guts she'd put an arrow through his brain, or she could seduce him and hope he'd spill his guts before or during or after his climax.

For reasons she chose not think about, her brain lingered for a rather long time on the last option. She was pondering how Cinna would look pressed against the sheets of her bed after having been thoroughly ravished by her when the compartment door opened. She started violently as Peeta entered the room and then tried to school her features into her 'innocently-perplexed-at-your-presence' expression. She figured she'd probably failed miserably given how hot her face felt.

"What are you up to?" He smiled at her, and seemed baffled when she didn't answer and just continued sitting there with her back against a crate of makeup supplies and her face most likely burning.

She thought very hard about icy rain, and a leering Cray, and the time she'd accidently burst in on Mags while the old woman was changing.

When she felt her body temperature had decreased enough, she answered, "Nothing, really. Thinking."

"About Cinna?"

Katniss almost choked. "What? No!" Could he read minds? Or was she just that obvious?

Peeta frowned at her vehement denial. "I'm not going to have a mental breakdown if you were. I just figured you'd be excited to see him again. It's been nearly two months."

"Oh, right. Yeah, I guess I missed him a little. A very little," she emphasized. "I mean, I talk to him on the phone nearly every day."

He stared at her. "Right."

"Yeah."

"So, ah…" He cleared his throat as if that would dispel the awkwardness of the entire situation. "I know this is none of my business, but— Why aren't you two sleeping together?"

"_What?_"

"I want you to be happy. And I think you'd be happy with him."

Her throat constricted a little, seeing how earnest he was. He was just so unselfish nearly all the time, it made her ache to think of how much pain she'd put him through in return.

"Look— Cinna doesn't— I don't think he wants that." She looked away.

"You're kidding, right?" he asked incredulously. "He's crazy about you."

"He's not," she said, turning back to scowl at him. "And even if he was, we can't—"

"Can't what?" he challenged.

So she explained exactly what had happened two months ago on the roof, and what Haymitch had told them afterwards. Peeta's brow creased, but he didn't look angry.

"That doesn't make any sense," he said. "Why would President Snow bother with that? You already sleep around with half the citizens in the Capitol, what difference would one more make?"

And he didn't say it out loud, because the room was most likely bugged, but she could read in his face: _He _forces_ you to sleep around. He _wants _the people of Panem to think you're a slut._

"Well— I mean, Haymitch s_aid_— And don't tell him I told you this, but he's usually right about those kinds of things—"

"I guess." Peeta didn't sound convinced though. And to be honest, Katniss wasn't sure she was, either.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I think canon Peeta really does love Katniss by the time the second Quarter Quell starts, but I also think he idealized Katniss a LOT in the first book. In this story, what with them actually having to go through with the wedding, and Katniss being forced to sleep around, they both got really bitter and their relationship just fell apart. They're working on mending it, but as Katniss has said, it's not the same.<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: The Flames Rose Higher**

**Warnings: See first chapter for warnings.**

**Notes: Thanks to anyone with the patience to still be reading this. Also, thanks to the people who favourited this story or put it on alert, and special thanks to **107602**, **FrostbittenRose**, **Cat of Flames**, **imadinosauristicharrypotterf an**, **DamonandElena4ever** and **TobiasOdair **for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the **_**Hunger Games**_** trilogy. I am not Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Flames Rose Higher<strong>

**Chapter Seven – Cinna**

Antonia Davenport held her Gala in the living room of her massive flat. There were pulsing lights hanging from the ceiling, mirrors of all shapes and sizes adorning the walls, and several long, sleek metal tables with ludicrous amounts of food laid out on their surfaces.

Katniss wrinkled her nose at it all the moment she had waved Davenport off to greet other new arrivals. "This is ridiculous, it's like she thinks we can't bear to walk five feet without seeing our own reflection."

"That's the theme," Cinna explained patiently. "Reflection."

"That's a weird theme," she said.

"Yeah," Peeta agreed. "Whatever happened to normal ones like autumn or clouds?"

The male stylist shrugged. "She was going for originality, I guess. And as it happens, most of her guests _do _enjoy seeing their faces everywhere they turn."

Haymitch snorted. "Don't remind me," he muttered. "Why am I even here?" Cinna twitched slightly at the sound of his voice, but managed to keep his expression neutral.

"If I have to suffer through five hours of this, so do you," Katniss hissed at the drunk.

"Oh, honestly, you two make it sound like you're being tortured!" Effie scolded them. "I think the décor is _lovely_, and there's so much good food here, Katniss, I thought you'd be overjoyed."

A dark look passed over the younger girl's face, and they all knew what she was thinking, even Effie. All this good food for the hundred or so privileged Capitol citizens in the room, and all throughout the Districts people were starving, the sick and the elderly and the _children_.

Cinna was sure she wouldn't say anything here—she knew better by now—but he was grateful all the same when Portia quickly changed the subject. "Shall we get the introductions over with early? I think I see the Salazars waving at us."

Katniss and Haymitch grimaced at each other, but they went along with it, putting on pleasant smiles for people they'd just as soon never see again. Katniss gushed over outfits and acted flattered when the women wearing them complimented her own in return. But she was always quick to redirect the praise to Cinna, who accepted it with feigned grace and a smile that was the perfect balance between grateful and humble.

Truthfully, he hated the dress he'd made for Katniss. Hated the way he'd gone overboard with the cleavage because it was expected of him. Hated the way he'd been forced to put her on display for scores of depraved men and women who honestly believed they were entitled to look, to touch. He knew Katniss hated it as well, but he also knew she didn't blame him for it. She never had, not even that time last year when the dress he'd put her in for Angus's Victory Banquet had inspired a partially intoxicated man nearly thirty years her senior to try and finger her under the table.

She'd been so new to the circus show back then, so bewildered by the way the man had violated her in full view of her husband. He remembered her staring at Haymitch with wide eyes, as if waiting for him to interrupt, to rescue her. He remembered Haymitch turning away from her pleading gaze, reaching for his wine glass with a trembling hand and then gripping it so tightly his knuckles blanched.

He remembered, and though that, at least, hadn't really been Haymitch's fault anymore that it had been Cinna's, he took vindictive pleasure in seeing how miserable the older man was tonight. Effie had insisted he go sober for the entirety of the Gala and for once, Cinna refused to distract her long enough for the victor to sneak a bottle from the refreshment table.

He grew angrier and angrier with Haymitch as the evening wore on and he noticed that Peeta's reaction to some of the guests mirrored Katniss's when she ran into one of her patrons. The same fixed smile, the same tightness around the eyes, the same accusation hidden in them.

Snow had been telling the truth, then. About that, and maybe everything. The only way of knowing for sure would be to confront Haymitch, but he wanted to do that privately and he couldn't find a way to get rid of Katniss.

She seemed intent on staying glued to his side as much as possible. If someone waved her over she dragged him along with her. If she was asked to dance, she made sure he was in the middle of a conversation with someone else and wouldn't be able to vanish before the song ended.

Judging by the pointed questions she asked him, she had sensed how upset he was with her mentor and wanted an explanation. He didn't want to give it because he knew it would hurt her, but he thought about their conversation in the middle of the night in that hospital room and decided he owed it to her to be honest.

First, however, he had to figure out just how much of what Snow had said was the truth and how much was an attempt to manipulate him or simply mess with his head.

He spotted Haymitch on the other side of the room, sprawled in a high-backed chair made entirely of crystal and nursing a bottle of orange juice with a distinctly disgruntled expression on his face. Katniss was nowhere in sight.

Cinna strode purposely towards the man who was—there was no other word for it—sulking. He was halfway there when a hand closed around his elbow. He turned slowly and was unsurprised to find Katniss, smiling an edgy sort of smile with lots of teeth that he imagined was usually directed at her prey.

The smart thing, he reasoned, would be to run very fast in the opposite direction, and he was tempted to do just that. Instead he lifted his chin and met the challenge he saw in her eyes with a calm, level stare.

And if he happened to break out in a sweat at that exact moment, well. The room was hot, what with all the people dancing.

Then he glimpsed his salvation over her shoulder. "Finnick!" he called, lifting one hand in a brief wave. He didn't say anything else. He didn't need to. In an instant, three people were approaching.

He glanced at Katniss. Perfectly plucked dark eyebrows pulled together in a frustrated scowl. Cinna quirked his lips at her. He wasn't so easy to corner; or at least, when he was backed into a corner, he was capable of getting himself out of it. Her mouth twitched in response. But when his grin grew wider hers immediately fell and she scowled at him twice as hard as before.

"Finnick," she said, in a tone that meant she was resigned to temporary defeat, as the Capitol's golden boy threw an arm around her shoulder and planted a smacking kiss on her cheek.

"Evening Katniss, Cinna," he said in that easygoing way of his. Johanna smirked at them in greeting while Plutarch Heavensbee simply nodded.

Cinna and his companions quickly fell into fast-paced conversation. They got the obligatory small talk over with as quickly as possible ("How's Prim?" "Good. Excited. Our cousin's having a baby." "Oh, congrats! So, names, how about Finnick Junior?" "And what if it's a girl, genius?" "Why, Johanna, they'll name her Finna, of course!" "I think Gale would sooner tear out both his kidneys.") and then dove into the important stuff disguised as small talk.

"So she's settling in, then, Maple?" Katniss asked. Casually. One victor asking another about the newcomer. Nothing odd about the question itself, but Katniss's eyes flickered to Plutarch, because she'd heard them, the whispers. They'd all heard them.

The whispers that the Capitol was growing restless, because Angus winning the third Quarter Quell last year had marked the fifth year in a row that a non-Career tribute was crowned victor. That the Gamemakers, in order to appease those in the Capitol who were unhappy, had attempted to rig the most recent Games in favor of the District 1 tributes. That the polar bear mutts had been programmed to attack only Maple, and the District 1 boy's death was an accident.

Cinna had re-watched that final confrontation at least five times, and it was impossible to deny the fact that _all _of the polar bear mutts had been totally focused on Maple. Every single one. The worn look on Plutarch's face and his obvious recent weight loss confirmed it: the rumors were true. Maple's triumph was a mistake, one Plutarch was most likely paying for.

Johanna shrugged, seemingly—or possibly genuinely, Cinna could never tell—unconcerned. "She's alive, at least, last I saw her. Her older brother died in an accident at the lumber yard a week ago. She's taken to locking herself up in her room and playing obnoxiously loud music like she's the only person on the planet to ever lose someone important." She paused for a second and then continued, a significant undercurrent in her voice, "Her brother's got some bad luck, though. He wasn't even supposed to go to work that day, it was his day off, but the manager called him in because the Head Peacekeeper happened to be doing a spontaneous health and safety inspection that they'd only just heard about. One that required every last employee to be there."

A punishment, for winning when a Career was supposed to be the victor, and a warning, to not step out of line. To not make any further mistakes.

"I'm sure she'll be fine once she remembers that these things happen for a reason," Plutarch said with a careless wave of his hand, and Cinna would've been exasperated by how dismissive he was of Maple's grief, except he noticed the grave shadow that passed over Plutarch's face and he heard everything the Head Gamemaker wasn't saying out loud.

For decades, the rebellion had been looking for a figurehead. As this person would be the one to unite the Districts and inspire them to rise up against the Capitol, they had to be someone well-known, someone in the public eye. The obvious choice was a victor.

So Plutarch and the other rebels had waited. Year after year after year. But every time they thought they'd found the perfect face for the resistance, their ideal candidate had either died in the Games or else come out of them too loyal to defy, too jaded to lead, too broken to hope, too scared to risk.

Until Katniss. Cinna hadn't joined the rebellion until after her Games had started—until after he'd watched his tribute catch fire and known it was, however indirectly, his fault—but he knew that from the very beginning, Katniss must've been everything the rebellion had been hoping for and more.

District 12's tributes had always been counted out, had always been considered too meager and downtrodden to have a real fighting chance. Katniss had volunteered anyway, not for glory, but to save her innocent little sister. She'd been the underdog, yet time and again she'd outshone her competitors and surprised all of Panem. With her parade costume, with her training score, with her district partner's tragic, doomed love for her. With a song, and flowers, and a handful of berries.

And in the face of all of that, the people of the districts had responded. With a solemn salute. With a loaf of bread. With a whistled four-note melody. Even, eventually, with open rebellion.

But Plutarch and the others had miscalculated. Hadn't realized that the same love that had moved Katniss to volunteer for what she'd believed to be a death sentence would hold her back from becoming the figurehead they needed. Neither had they realized that finally giving the districts a spark of hope only to let the Capitol cruelly snuff it out would lead the districts to abandon any and all attempts at resistance.

Well, almost all. District 11 had continued to revolt for as long as they could even after evidence of Katniss's infidelity had been broadcast for the entire nation to see. There'd been unrest in District 4 for quite a while afterwards as well, perhaps because, with Finnick Odair as their most celebrated victor, they weren't as bothered by the way Katniss had seemed to become just another—as Katniss herself would put it—Capitol fake.

The fact remained, however, that two out of twelve districts (three out of thirteen, according to Plutarch, but though Katniss believed it, Cinna had not yet seen any real proof that 13 still existed) was not enough to take on the Capitol.

So once again, the rebellion was left waiting for an ideal figurehead. Perhaps Maple would be it. Although the Gamemakers had clearly rigged the Games before—they'd been very unsubtle when dealing with the cannibal, Titus, years ago—this was the first time they'd very obviously tried to kill a tribute so popular with the districts. If she'd been a career, Maple probably would've been the favorite in the Capitol as well.

Maybe, if they were lucky, Maple would be able to lead the districts to renew their struggle against the Capitol. Katniss's apparent defection had put a halt to the uprisings, but it hadn't stopped the districts from w_anting_ to bring down President Snow and his ruthless regime. It hadn't stopped them from wanting change. Maybe all they needed was a little push in the right direction.

Katniss scoffed. "That's not going to help at all, Plutarch. Her brother's dead and she's not going to care about the big picture."

Which really meant, _She's not going to care about your rebellion when she knows a single misstep could get the remainder of her family killed._

"Fair enough," Plutarch replied offhandedly, as though he had no more to say on the subject, but his eyes, intent on Katniss's face, told a different story. He glanced around covertly, then nodded at the front door. "Anyone want to join me for a smoke?"

They'd all smoked at some point—Cinna back when he was in school, Finnick and Johanna after they'd first won their Games, and Katniss had tried it once at a party a few months ago, resulting in a violent coughing fit that had lasted at least five minutes. But as far as he knew, none of them did anymore. Plutarch, on the other hand, was notorious for disappearing from any gathering at least once every two hours to have a cigarette.

"Hell yes," crowed Johanna. "My stylist is a miserable, interfering harpy and steals all my cigarettes because she thinks my teeth will rot if I don't quit."

"She's right," Finnick pointed out. He flashed his pearly whites at her and Plutarch. "_I _certainly do not engage in such shameful behaviour, but I don't have the heart to deprive you all of my presence, so, shall we?"

"Sure," Katniss said simply, and Cinna inwardly rejoiced.

"Think I'll stay inside, you know, in case anyone wonders where you guys went," he said, and watched Katniss's face twist as she realized she'd finally lost their little game.

Johanna and Plutarch left without a word.

"Good man." Finnick gave him a slap on the back and then used both hands to propel Katniss after the others. She sent Cinna a dark look that promised death—or at least utter misery—over Finnick's shoulder but allowed herself to be pushed out the door.

Cinna knew he didn't have time to waste, so he made his way over to Haymitch and quickly invented an excuse to drag him into the hallway. Experience (and Beetee) had taught him that the places most likely to be bug-free in Capitol buildings were storage closets and cellars. Anyway, Cinna wasn't really concerned about the president and his spies overhearing, as he wasn't planning on saying anything that Snow didn't already know. Haymitch already knew most of what he planned to say as well, and Snow was aware of that. It was the general public, the ordinary people in the Capitol that Cinna wanted to hide from.

He wasn't at all concerned about what those people would think as he manhandled Haymitch into a closet on the second floor. It wouldn't seem strange to them, and neither he nor Haymitch cared about their reputations. They would probably assume that the victor was drunk out of his mind, which was a good thing for them to think.

The closet wasn't that big, but at least it smelled nice. Not like cleaning agent, as he'd expected, but some surprisingly underwhelming fragrance, a mix of oranges and grapefruits. He didn't bother with the lights, simply leaned against the shelf opposite the entrance and did his best to ignore the broom handle digging into his back.

Haymitch settled with his back against the door, arms crossed, and barked, "What do you want?"

"President Snow had me pay him a visit a few weeks ago," Cinna began coolly. His companion stiffened and Cinna knew he had the man's undivided attention. "The main reason being he wanted to discuss Gaius Mannox's escape from prison and his whereabouts now." Haymitch relaxed slightly, but Cinna wasn't done yet. "As I knew nothing about either of those things, the conversation quickly turned to Katniss and my relationship with her."

If anything, Haymitch calmed even more after hearing that, which made resentment bubble up in Cinna's chest.

"You lied to me," he accused, though he kept his voice even, "and to Katniss. President Snow never threatened either of us. He couldn't care less if we flaunted a romance between us in front of all of Panem."

Haymitch snorted. "Yes, he would. He would care." Cinna opened his mouth to protest, but Haymitch ignored him and continued, "He would care about all the ways he could use you against Katniss. All the new ways he could make her dance for him if he just threatened to harm you."

Cinna was so surprised that the resentment in him fizzled out, but he managed to demand weakly, "So you were, what, protecting her?"

"Protecting her?" Haymitch laughed, the sound sharp and bitter and a little hysterical. "I can't protect anyone. Not myself, not Katniss—"

"And not Peeta?" the younger man asked quietly.

"Snow told you about that too, huh?" He passed a shaking hand over his face. "I tried to find a way out of it, but Katniss would've lost one of her _cousins_, or Peeta one of his brothers, and the boy refused to let either of those things happen. He made me swear not to tell Katniss, and I didn't, because I can't protect her but I can at least let her think she's protecting him."

"She deserves the truth."

"So tell her, then," Haymitch said. "You didn't promise the boy anything. Go ahead and tell her, she can take it. She's already broken anyways, what's a little more pain and guilt going to do to her?"

The words stung, as they were undoubtedly meant to. But what else was Cinna supposed to do? The lies would hurt Katniss more in the long run.

"I'll tell her. But you have to tell her you were lying about Snow threatening us." Because he wanted to be with Katniss, but maybe that wasn't what was best for her or what she wanted at all, and Haymitch would do a better job of helping her work it out than anyone else would.

Gray eyes considered him for a long moment. "Deal," Haymitch said finally. He yanked the door open and walked away, leaving Cinna standing alone in a storage closet, nauseous at just the thought of telling his best friend the truth.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Shorter than usual, I know. Can't think of much else to say here except yet another apology for taking so long to update. And I'm not sure when this story will be finished. There's only going to be two or at most three more chapters; originally<strong>** I was going to include an epilogue, but I think I'll just leave the story open-ended. (Also I'm trying to decide who should die, if anyone. Hmmm. Don't really want to kill off anyone who died in the books, and Peeta just deals with so much crap that I don't think I have the heart to off him. Maybe Gale, but he's got a baby on the way.)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: The Flames Rose Higher**

**Warnings: Rated T for a reason. SPOILERS for all three books. AU.**

**Notes: Thanks to anyone with the patience to still be reading this. Also, thanks to the people who favourited this story or put it on alert, and special thanks to **imadinosauristicharrypotterf an **and** letthesongtakeflight **for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the **_**Hunger Games**_** trilogy. I am not Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Flames Rose Higher<strong>

**Chapter Eight – Katniss**

Katniss raised her cigarette to her lips and drew in a relaxing breath, letting the mouth-watering taste of what she thought might be pomegranate gather on her tongue.

The cigarette Plutarch had given her was fake, indistinguishable from a real one except for the fruity flavor of the smoke. The fake version was generally used by Capitol children who, she supposed, wanted to be like their parents. It was non-addictive and totally harmless, and Katniss was glad Plutarch had had a box on hand so she didn't need to smoke the real thing.

She was also glad to be walking through Antonia Davenport's massive garden, far from prying eyes, instead of standing on the woman's front porch and having to feign a violent coughing fit whenever she took a drag from her cigarette. One of the few things she was known for _not_ doing in the Capitol was smoking. She couldn't look like was enjoying the cigarette where other people could see her.

There'd been far too many curious ears in hearing distance on the porch, so Plutarch, as though prompted by Katniss and Johanna's shivering, had suggested they take a stroll in the garden, where the closed in walls of the hedge maze made things a bit warmer.

Ten minutes later and they were nearing the clock tower in the centre of the maze that was obviously Plutarch's destination.

_Good cover,_ Katniss approved. No one would be able to hear them over the _tick-tocking_ of the giant clock. She took a seat on one of the wooden benches surrounding the tower. Finnick sat down beside her while their other companions decided to stand.

"Well?" Johanna prompted, impatient as ever. "We don't have all night, get on with it."

"Maple isn't really Mockingjay material," Plutarch began hurriedly, "but she's all we've got. We can't afford to wait any longer. We can't let the districts grow complacent again. It has to be now. So we're going to have to make do with Maple and hope that in time, she'll become what we need."

"She won't go for it," Finnick protested. "Katniss is right; she'll be too worried about her family to risk it."

"Yes," agreed Plutarch. "Which is why we're going to get them out."

"Out?" Johanna echoed.

"We're going to bring them to District Thirteen," Plutarch explained. "Once they're safe, Maple will be more willing to work with us. We meant to do the same for your family, Katniss, but we waited too long. We thought that Snow would be content with the distraction the wedding and the Quarter Quell provided, that we would have time to prepare you and then get your family to safety. We never thought things would go to hell so quickly."

Katniss swallowed hard, eyes on the ground as she dropped her cigarette and crushed it beneath her shoe. With two fingers she followed the handrail on her side of the bench, shaped like a delicate rose. Yes, it hadn't taken very long at all for everything to fall apart. She often alternated between blaming herself and blaming Plutarch and Haymitch for keeping her in the dark.

_Blame isn't going to get anyone anywhere,_ she thought to herself now. All they could do was move forward, hope Maple would succeed where Katniss had failed.

She looked up. Glanced around her. Antonia Davenport's garden was full of references to the Hunger Games. The handrail on Finnick's side of the bench was shaped like a mockingjay. Across from her, at a fork in the path, was a small pond with a statue of a naked man holding a trident rising out of it. On their way here, she'd noticed a patch of nightlock berries, and she'd been so shocked she'd simply stood there staring at them until Johanna had prodded her in the back to get her to keep walking. She had a feeling the garden itself was based on the ice maze in the most recent Games, and some part of her wondered how Davenport's gardeners had created all this in only a few weeks.

The clock struck midnight, and instead of chiming, she heard thunder. Lightning struck the tower. It had to be simulated, surely, because the sky was cloudless.

She remembered the lightning from the Quarter Quell. Remembered Plutarch, his eyes full of secrets, telling her, _It starts at midnight._ Remembered her very first tributes, Tire and Eden. The blind boy who'd stumbled out of the blood rain and right into the two o'clock fog, and the mad girl who'd stepped off her plate five seconds into the countdown.

Claudius Templesmith had christened Eden the next Annie Cresta. Except Annie hadn't blown herself up. Annie had won. Annie was stuck living this half-life.

The Quell had been so brutal. So many of the tributes had been helpless, defenseless—more than in any of the previous Games. It had driven home just how cruel the Capitol was. And now the Gamemakers had rigged the Games yet again, so obviously that everyone had noticed, which had likely been Plutarch's intention. The injustice of it all would have to be enough, along with Maple's encouragement, to reignite the uprisings.

At the very least, she knew, District 11 would fight. Because no matter how many Capitol beds Katniss had climbed into in the past year, it didn't erase Rue. Everything she'd been, bright and kind and hopeful. And it didn't erase her loss.

"Are you listening, Katniss?"

"What?" She startled and realized they were all watching her, her fellow victors smirking while Plutarch gave her a stern look. "Yes. Sorry. Yeah, I'm listening."

"Good," Plutarch said, "because this is important.

"By getting Maple's family out of District Seven, we'll be giving ourselves away and calling the Capitol's wrath down on us. Oh, we'll stage an accident; we'll try to make it look like a real tragedy. But Snow will see through it, and he'll go for the obvious targets—the victors. Except most of you are, at least for now, more useful to him alive. And what's the easiest way for him to punish you and get you to cooperate at the same time? To kill your family. Your friends. Your loved ones. He'll take out as many as he wants, and whoever's left will be all he needs to get you to do everything he says."

Katniss had been expecting this, and a quick glance at Finnick and Johanna told her that they too were unsurprised.

"So what do we do?"

"We'll get them out, too. But quietly. No accidents that make the news. The upcoming talent segments will draw a lot of attention to the victors, especially you two." The Head Gamemaker nodded at Katniss and Finnick, then, dropping his voice even lower so they all had to lean in to hear, continued, "We can't afford for Snow to notice what we're doing that early on, so we won't be able to get your families out until afterwards. Ideally, we'd wait a few weeks and get everyone out at the same time, but we don't have the manpower. So while the talent segments are going on, we're going to collect the people who aren't in the spotlight. Blight's niece and her kids. Wiress's godmother. Seeder's grandsons. People like that. People President Snow won't notice are gone. We start Phase 2 when Snow and the Capitol are focused on Maple's Victory Tour again. We'll stage the deaths of her family, and while that's happening we'll pick up whoever's left over, including your families. District Seven will be our last stop. If all goes to plan, we'll all be safe in District Thirteen by the time Snow notices what's happened."

He leaned back and glanced around at them. "Any questions, comments, concerns?"

"If it all goes to plan," Johanna repeated disbelievingly. "Nothing ever goes to plan."

"Any _legitimate_ concerns?" Plutarch waved her derisive snort aside.

Katniss privately felt that Johanna had a really very legitimate concern, but she said nothing. The look on Finnick's face told her he felt the same, but he didn't say anything about it either and instead asked, "What about the victors themselves? What happens to us?"

He sounded genuinely anxious, and Katniss knew exactly who he was thinking of.

Plutarch obviously did too, because he was quick to reassure the younger man. "Annie and Mags will definitely be included in Phase 2. So will a few of the others, like the Morphlings and Woof. Maple will, of course, be brought to District Thirteen with the rest of her family so we can prepare her."

_So you can mould her into the perfect Mockingjay, as you wanted to do with me, _Katniss accused, but without heat. Things needed to change, and if the only way to accomplish that was for Plutarch to essentially manipulate a young girl, then so be it.

"As for you three and the rest…" Plutarch trailed off. "Maple can't be expected to do all the work, we'll need some of the victors to stay behind and encourage their own districts to rebel. But it's a personal choice. If you think you can make more of a difference in District Thirteen—"

"If you're too much of a coward to fight for your freedom, you mean." Johanna said the words as scathingly as possible, and the fury in her eyes condemned anyone who would choose not to fight.

"No." Plutarch frowned at her. "I mean if you think you can make more of a difference in District Thirteen, like Beetee and Wiress for example. Or if, like Cecelia, you have children who need you to take care of them. You can choose to go with us. It's your own decision. We're not going to force anyone."

Finnick blew out a breath. "Mags will want to stay and help. But I think I could convince her to go, for Annie's sake."

_What about Gale?_ Katniss thought suddenly, ignoring the others as they tried to estimate how many victors would stay and how many would go. Would Gale insist on staying like he had the time he'd followed her deep into the woods and she'd told him they needed to run?

He would've stayed, a year ago. Nothing would've been able to convince him to go. But now it was different. Now he had a baby to think of. And he seemed less angry at her these days, more willing to actually talk to her when three months ago he wouldn't have even acknowledge her existence.

Peeta's mother would be difficult, but not impossible. As for Peeta himself… Once he found out Katniss was staying, he would insist on standing by her.

Gale and his family would go. Peeta's family would go. Katniss's mother and sister would go.

Who did that leave? She knew she couldn't keep everyone safe. She couldn't rescue the people of the former Hob, and Madge's parents definitely wouldn't be able to leave District 12.

She also knew perfectly well who was left.

_Does District 13 allow alcohol?_ she wondered.

It was only when her companions abruptly fell silent and turned to look at her that she realized she'd spoken the question out loud.

Johanna started cackling. Finnick covered his laughter with a cough. Evidently, they knew exactly who was on her mind.

Plutarch blinked at her. "No, of course not."

Well. Haymitch would definitely be staying then.

It suddenly occurred to her to ask, "What about animals?"

"Animals?" the Capitol man echoed, sounding as if he'd never heard of the word before.

"Yes. Animals. Like goats." A second later she grudgingly added, "And cats."

"Ah, I don't know. I'll look into that."

Not like it mattered either way. Come hell or high water, Prim _would _be safe, regardless of what happened to the hideous demon's spawn that she called Buttercup.

"It's almost one o'clock," Plutarch noted. "Give me a list of the people you want me to take to District Thirteen, and then we'll all head back inside."

Finnick went first. Annie, Mags, and two cousins and an uncle.

Plutarch looked to Johanna next. She looked back at him and said nothing. Plutarch waited. She stared him down in silence and still he waited.

"Don't you get it?" Johanna finally spat out, vicious like a wounded animal. "I have no one. There's no one left I love."

Plutarch opened his mouth, but whatever he planned to say was lost as Johanna spoke over him, "Maple's got her mother, a grandfather and a best friend—Mahogany—whose parents were killed by bears five years ago. In case you didn't already know. They all live together, shouldn't be too hard to fake their deaths." She nodded at Katniss. "Your turn."

Katniss avoided the older girl's eyes as she rattled off name after name, her stomach twisting uncomfortably the longer it went on. Her list was longer than Finnick's and Johanna's list for Maple combined. _The Mellarks don't really count,_ she thought to herself almost defensively. _That's for Peeta, not for me. _But the list was still so long, with the Everdeens and the Hawthornes and Madge.

She'd always thought of herself as a loner. She'd never exactly felt sorry for herself, but neither had she realized how lucky she was. Maybe she hadn't always been, back when it was just her and Prim and the lifeless shell that was supposed to be their mother, but she was now.

She lifted her head and met Johanna's gaze, knowing she'd never take it for granted again, how much it meant to have someone—anyone—you wanted to keep.

There was someone else whose name she hadn't mentioned who she very much wanted to keep. She turned back to Plutarch and quietly added one final name to her list: "Cinna."

* * *

><p>Katniss waited until they were back in District 12 to tell Peeta and Haymitch about the plan. Peeta was every bit as excited as Katniss that they were finally taking action, and even Haymitch looked cautiously optimistic. As expected, they both opted not to go to District 13. If either was annoyed that they hadn't been present for the conversation, they didn't show it. Peeta had been busy chatting with the Salazars at the time, and Haymitch, Katniss was now informed, had been closeted with Cinna.<p>

She hadn't told Cinna about the plan—partly because there hadn't been time, given that they'd left soon after returning to Antonia Davenport's mansion, and partly because she'd still been (still was, to be honest) irritated with him for trying (and eventually succeeding) to avoid her the entire night. He'd inevitably find out the plan from Plutarch sometime in the next month anyway.

Peeta went home right after their conversation had finished, but Haymitch said he had something to tell her. So the two of them stayed where they were, halfway between the town and the Victor's Village, as he explained to that he'd lied to her.

Haymitch had seen her and Cinna that night on the rooftop of the training centre. That was how he knew about the kiss, not because President Snow had passed on a threatening message for Katniss through him. He'd lied and said Snow had done that because, he told her now, her actions had been incredibly stupid and had given Snow yet another thing to use against her.

Even as Haymitch walked away, leaving her standing in the cold, she wanted to protest that it had only been a kiss. It hadn't mattered. That was how Cinna felt, wasn't it? He'd had run from her that night. He'd thought it was a mistake, hadn't he?

"_You're kidding, right?" _Peeta had said. _"He's crazy about you."_

She was starting to realize she might be a little crazy herself.

And Haymitch was right. Annie Cresta's brand of crazy was tragic and heartbreaking and something Snow _would_ pay for someday—maybe even someday soon. The kind of crazy Cinna made Katniss feel was just stupid.

Stupid, because it gave Snow yet another thing to use against her. She didn't have much left for him to take, for him to force her to give. There was blood on her hands because of him, there were strangers in her bed because of him. What was left?

He could make her sing, she supposed. Make her tear out piece after piece of her soul and lay them bear for everyone in the Capitol to see and taint and destroy.

It made her shake at odd times in the night, to think of how little of her life she had control over, how little of herself belonged to her. To think, _I am what he made me. I am a hunter. I am a survivor. I am a murderer. I am a victor. I am a whore. I am Peeta's wife. I am a puppet on a string. _

Snow hadn't purposely made her some of those things, but it was his cruel Games, his merciless laws, his unjust restrictions that made it necessary for her to struggle, to kill so that she and the people she cared about could live.

_I am Peeta's wife. _

Because Snow had told her she had to be. And even if Peeta had ever truly been in love with the real her, and she had ever truly been in love with him, and Snow had not forced her to sell her body for money she wouldn't ever see and certainly did not need, she would _never_ have been able to get past that.

_We are what the Capitol made us. Star-crossed lovers, allies, husband and wife._

But not friends. The Capitol had always demanded more than that, and so Katniss would never genuinely be able to give it.

_I am a puppet on a string._

Sometimes, when she felt as if the anger and the helplessness in her was boiling over, all she wanted to do was chase the threads that made her dance to their source and cut them free.

Prim. Cinna. Peeta. Her mother. Gale. And Haymitch, despite his lies and the fact that they argued more often than not.

Certainly, the list of names she'd given to Plutarch had been much longer, but there was a difference between wanting someone to be safe and being willing to do virtually _anything_ to make them so.

In her mind, those were the six people she loved unconditionally. Six people to love, six people to lose if she screwed up. Six people too many, and she'd spent more waking hours than she could count wishing she cared a little less—or even not at all.

Yet now she wondered if any of that even mattered anymore. Soon her loved ones would be safe. Most of them, anyway. Peeta and Haymitch wouldn't be, but that was their choice and not, Peeta had assured her, her fault.

As for Cinna… He would want to stay, too. He would want to be with her in District 12, or go to District 5, the place he considered his home, and help with the uprisings. But she knew she could convince him to go to District 13. He'd be just as useful there, if not moreso, than he would be in either 5 or 12. He could design some iconic outfit for Maple so that people would pay even more attention to her, so that they would admire her and want to follow her example.

And if he was safe, what was stopping Katniss from being with him other than his own reluctance?

She'd never been with anyone she genuinely wanted. Her first time had been with Peeta, and he'd been sweet and gentle and loving and everything her patrons weren't, but they'd both known they were only doing it because it was their wedding night and something Snow expected of them.

No. Not expected. Demanded. It was something Snow had demanded of them.

_Maybe,_ she thought, _it's time I demand something for myself._ After all, she had no concrete proof that Cinna was indifferent to her—in fact, the way he'd reacted to her kiss on the rooftop had given her fairly concrete proof that he was the complete opposite.

She owed it to herself to at least ask, and if he told her he didn't want her, then she'd drop it. Force herself to stop wanting him. Stop wanting his hands and mouth on her body, his front against her back and his arm draped over her while she drifted off to sleep, his face in her line of sight when she opened her eyes the next morning. Somehow.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I guess taking a month to update is better than taking 4. Anyways, sorry for any mechanical errors, I'm too tired to go through the chapter one more time right now, but I'll look over it again tomorrow. Also, if Plutarch's plan is complete garbage, well, I've certainly never claimed to be a good strategist. <strong>

**Two more chapters to go. I hope you're all having a wonderful day!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: The Flames Rose Higher**

**Warnings: See first chapter for warnings.**

**Notes: Thanks to anyone with the patience to still be reading this. Also, thanks to the people who favourited this story or put it on alert, and special thanks to **imadinosauristicharrypotterfan**, **shellbell0944**,** Guest**, other **Guest** and **MysticMayhem2403** for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the **_**Hunger Games**_** trilogy. I am not Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Flames Rose Higher<strong>

**Chapter Nine – Cinna**

In the weeks leading up to the talent segments, Cinna met Plutarch Heavensbee in an abandoned and surveillance-free warehouse on three separate occasions. The first time it was just the two of them, and Plutarch asked him a lot of unnecessary questions that he'd already asked several times in the past about where Cinna's loyalties laybefore finally relaxing and getting him caught up to speed on the plan.

"You really think this will work?" Cinna asked skeptically. "You think no one will notice hovercrafts appearing all over the country only for dozens of people to disappear immediately afterward? You think that won't get back to Snow, just because the people you're bringing to safety aren't as well-known as, say, Prim?"

"Well, we're not going to just land the hovercrafts right in front of the Justice Buildings in each district. You can always find somewhere discreet and out of the way that Snow doesn't know about if you walk far enough. As for people noticing their friends or neighbors are gone—that's what the talent segments are for," Plutarch explained. "Distractions. The camera crew makes its way through the districts over the course of about two weeks, stopping to interview popular victors—or the not so popular ones who happen to have interesting talents. Almost like a prelude to the Victory Tour. And where do they start this journey?"

"District 12," Cinna answered, wondering where this was going.

"District 12, with Peeta's paintings and, ah, _Katniss's_ clothes. So what we need is for them to start the talent segments off with a bang. Capture the attention of everyone, even President Snow."

Cinna eyed the older man suspiciously. "And how, exactly, are they going to do that?"

He kept his reply vague—_Oh, I'm working on it, don't worry, I'll figure it out_—but the maniacal grin pulling at his lips gave him away. He already had a plan, and Cinna had a feeling Katniss was going to hate it.

* * *

><p>The second time he rendezvoused with Plutarch Heavensbee in the warehouse—well, it was a different warehouse, but just as remote as the first one, the only real difference being that the new one smelled horribly like rotten eggs—they were joined by over a dozen people, some of whom Cinna recognized, many of whom he was very surprised to see.<p>

"Cressida!" He kissed her on the cheek and then greeted the man standing beside her in the same way. "And Messalla. Didn't expect to see you two here."

"Didn't you?" Cressida asked, grinning slyly.

He didn't get a chance to answer her rhetorical question, because the next instant Plutarch swooped in and exclaimed, "Cressida will be the director of the camera crew for the talent segments, and Messalla will be her assistant. Those two—" He pointed at two identical, sandy-haired men standing on the far side of the room, one of whom was gesturing while the other watched intently. "—will be doing the actual filming."

"Castor and Pollux," Messalla identified. "They're twins, obviously. Pollux is an Avox."

Cinna winced in sympathy. President Snow had been holding that that punishment over his head ever since Katniss's Games. _One wrong move_, he'd said, which was partly why Haymitch's lie had been so believable. At one point Snow had even decided that a demonstration was necessary. Cinna rarely suffered from nightmares, but after that incident he'd been plagued by them for three weeks straight.

"We joined the rebellion quite some time ago," Cressida said, "but we couldn't really do anything useful until now. We need these talent segments to distract everyone, even President Snow, so Plutarch called in some favors and got us hired onto the camera crew."

"Because this way you'll get to edit the footage Pollux and Castor collect," Cinna said slowly. "You get to shape the final product. You control what the public will see. Brilliant!"

"Of course it is, it was my plan, after all," Plutarch said briskly. In a louder voice, he announced to the room in general, "All right, that's enough chitchat, time to get down to business."

Within seconds, everyone had quieted down and fixed their eyes on Plutarch, waiting to hear what he had to say.

"Now," he began, "as you all know, we will soon be transporting people across Panem to District Thirteen. You are all here today because you have to make a choice. You can either stay here in the Capitol and gather information for the rebellion, or you can come with me on the hovercraft when we initiate Phase 2 and we'll bring you to safety. I need all of you to choose now so we'll know how many people are coming and so we can decide how to get everyone to the hovercraft without being seen."

He turned to Cressida and Messalla. "We'd like the two of you, as well as Pollux and Castor, to come to District Thirteen. We'll need a decent camera crew."

Messalla shrugged and said, "Sure. Not like we'll be able to do much if we stay in the Capitol."

Cressida nodded her agreement. On the other side of the room, the sandy-haired twins looked at each other for a moment. Then Castor said, "Us too. We'll come."

"Excellent. Fulvia, you will of course be accompanying me." He smiled at the woman standing next to him. "But what about you, Portia?"

Startled, Cinna followed Plutarch's gaze until his eyes landed on his fellow stylist. She was watching him with a wry grin on her face. He hadn't noticed her when he'd first glanced around the room. How long had she been a part of the rebellion? Why hadn't he known?

"I'd like to stay," she said. "My father-in-law is pretty high up and he spills a lot of secrets when he's drunk. I'll be more useful here, given that you'll already have a stylist." She nodded at Cinna.

"What? No, no, I'd actually rather go to District Twelve or maybe Five," he said hurriedly.

"What good would that do?" Plutarch asked. "The people of District Twelve think you're one of Katniss's lovers. They won't listen to you. As for the people of District Five—to them, you're a traitor. You abandoned them for fame and fortune, for a glamorous life."

Cinna reeled back as if he'd been struck. "That's not why I—"

"Yes, we know that. They don't. Trust me; your presence will not encourage them to rise up against the Capitol. Come to District Thirteen. We need someone to create a look for Maple, something iconic that will inspire the people of the districts," Plutarch coaxed. He paused, then added, "Also, Katniss will kill me if I let you stay behind."

_Of course Katniss would want me to go to District Thirteen,_ Cinna thought, fighting the urge to sigh in exasperation.

It wasn't her decision to make, and it certainly was Plutarch's, but unfortunately the older man was right. The only place Cinna could make a real difference was in District 13. Once the rebellion moved against him, President Snow would go after anyone he thought was part of it. Cinna would be pretty high on his list of suspects, so staying in the Capitol was definitely out of the question. And as for trying to help out in the districts—the people might love the clothes he made, but he knew, he'd always known, that he'd never really be one of them.

* * *

><p>The third time, two days before he was to be shipped off to District 12, he arrived early and found Portia already there waiting for Plutarch. She looked up when Cinna entered and smiled at him in welcome.<p>

He smiled back and said, "Didn't know you would be here. Anyone else coming?"

She shrugged. "No idea. Plutarch told me he wanted to talk about Peeta's wardrobe for the talent segments. I'm guessing he wanted to speak to you about Katniss's?"

"Yes, that's what he said. Apparently he has some plan to distract the Capitol and it involves Katniss and Peeta. He probably needs to make sure we dress them the way he wants," Cinna reasoned.

As it turned out, Cinna was right. Plutarch showed up at the agreed-upon time and then instructed the two stylists to give Katniss and Peeta a "—domestic sort of look, you know? Loving housewife and her devoted husband just home from work at the bakery. I'm talking collared dresses with polka-dots and handmade shirts with Peeta's initials embroidered on somewhere. Don't forget the matching aprons for when they make dinner together and old-fashioned jewellery that they can claim belonged to Peeta's grandmother, all right? And someone needs to make Prim look a few years younger so we can play up Katniss's nurturing side."

Portia's eyebrows climbed higher and higher as Plutarch went on, and Cinna had to admit he was rather skeptical as well. Loving housewife? _Katniss_? And her devoted husband? The one she'd cheated on with half the men in the Capitol? That _would_ be a distraction for some people—it would rank somewhere up there with the possibility of the existence of aliens and alternate dimensions—but it wasn't going to fool Snow.

After Plutarch had bid them goodbye and slipped out the door, off to another meeting on the opposite end of the city, Cinna and Portia talked it over for a while and came to the conclusion that there must be something more to the plan that would make the domestic look believable.

When they'd exhausted that subject they stood in silence for a few minutes, Cinna debating whether or not he should say goodbye and leave. Instead he chose to ask a question that had been on his mind since he'd first seen her at the meeting with Cressida and all the others.

"Why didn't you tell me you'd joined the rebellion?"

Portia looked at him and said, "Well, I didn't know for sure that you were part of the rebellion—" he made a noise of disbelief, which she ignored in favor of plowing on, "—and it wasn't safe to give myself away unless I was one hundred percent sure."

"Fair enough," he allowed. He eyed her shrewdly. "But you were mostly sure, weren't you? And you were upset that I never told you."

"Upset, no. Annoyed, yes." At the look he gave her, she elaborated, "Plutarch told me that Haymitch approached you about joining the rebellion before the 74th Games were even over, but no one approached me until a few months ago. You know I've never agreed with the way the President runs things and that I've always wanted the Games to be abolished. You knew I wouldn't rat you out if you confided in me, you knew I'd gladly join an underground resistance if I was given the opportunity, but you never mentioned anything about it to me."

"Because you have so much more to lose," he reminded her. "Your husband, your father, your grandmother, your in-laws. And President Snow was suspicious of me from day one, but he was sure of your loyalty."

"Which is exactly why you should've asked me to join two years ago," she argued. "Because I was in a position where I could gather information without anyone suspecting me. I could've helped, but you never gave me a chance."

"You're my friend." Cinna shrugged his shoulders a little helplessly. "I was trying to keep you safe."

"Oh, I know, which is why I was always annoyed instead of angry. Because I knew you were trying to keep me safe. Just like Katniss is trying to keep you safe." Portia raised an eyebrow at him and said, clearly fighting back a smirk, "Perhaps that wasn't the best comparison. I doubt her motivation for trying to keep _you _safe is quite the same as yours was for trying to keep _me _safe."

"Thought you were a die-hard supporter of the star-crossed lovers," he said, and though he would never admit it, his tone was just the slightest bit sour.

"I was. I love Peeta, you know I do, and I want him to be happy, but I think a working romantic relationship between him and Katniss is a lost cause at this point." She nudged his shoulder with her own. "You're my friend, too, and you've been waiting for her long enough. I think it's time you got your happy ending."

* * *

><p>The problem, of course, he thought to himself as the train pulled into District 12's station the morning the talent segments were to begin, being that getting his happy ending was a lot easier said than done. He didn't even know if Katniss genuinely wanted him; what he did know was that he was going to have to break her heart by telling her what the President had told him about Peeta. He also knew that soon enough, he was going to be safe in District 13 while Katniss was out here risking her life.<p>

He decided his doubts and worries would have to wait. He had to do his part to help distract the Capitol, because right now there were people all across the districts discreetly packing away their things, their lives. There were families preparing to run. To essentially vanish from the face of the Earth. And if Cinna and the others didn't do their jobs properly, those disappearances would be noticed, and then all those people would be caught and slaughtered one by one.

So when it came time to prepare Katniss for her interviews, he followed Plutarch's guidelines. Having decided against the polka-dots the instant Plutarch had mentioned them, Cinna put Katniss in the blue dress she'd worn on the day of her Reaping. Combined with the white and red checkered apron he handed her, it gave her a distinctly _housewife_ look. The main reason he'd chosen that particular dress was that he thought it might make the viewers see her in a more benevolent light. It might remind them of the girl they used to see whenever they looked at her, the girl who'd volunteered to die in her sister's place. He did her hair up the way her mother had indirectly taught him for the same reason: to make the viewers see a girl who belonged to District 12, who had been ripped from her home and forcibly taken to the Capitol. The only accessories he added to the outfit were a pair of silver earrings that looked about a thousand years old and, of course, Katniss's Mockingjay pin.

There'd been a brief period of time during the Quarter Quell where Cinna had felt the need to leave out the pin when dressing Katniss, fearing that it might spark more tension in the districts and anger President Snow to the point where he would harm Prim and Mrs. Everdeen. Eventually that fear had lessened and the pin had once again become Katniss's trademark. Her wearing it today wouldn't seem suspicious, because she always wore it. Nowadays it was a symbol of betrayal to the people of the districts, not rebellion. Cinna was hoping that would change soon enough, preferably without Snow realizing.

By the time Peeta knocked on the door to collect his wife, Katniss had finished scowling at herself in the mirror (the apron in particular received the full wrath of her glare) and was ready to play her part.

She flung herself over to the door, yanked it open and then threw her arms around her husband. As the star-crossed lovers greeted each other with adoring smiles and passionate kisses, Cinna darted a glance at his reflection to make sure his expression was the mixture of indulgence and amusement he was aiming for.

It was, which was a good thing because there was a camera right behind Peeta and it was doing a thorough sweep of Mrs. Everdeen's living room. Behind the camera was Pollux, and behind him was Castor, with his camera trained on Katniss and Peeta, and the rest of the crew. Cinna was careful not to acknowledge any of them as they stepped around the couple still embracing and fully entered the room.

Only when Katniss and Peeta pulled apart—and now that they had, Cinna could clearly see that his fellow stylist had also followed Plutarch's instructions, right down to the embroidered initials on the breast pocket of Peeta's clearly handwoven shirt—did Cressida introduce herself and Messalla. Cinna smiled at the newcomers politely as though he was meeting them for the first time, and they smiled back in the exact same way.

Once the introductions were over with, Cressida gave Katniss, Peeta and Cinna their directions. "Now, as this isn't going to be live, we can interview all three of you at once in order to save time. Mr. and Mrs. Mellark, if you'll come with me and… Cinna, was it?" she asked. Cinna wanted to laugh at how perfectly apologetic she looked, but instead he nodded. "Cinna, stay here with Messalla. And… Portia?" Portia nodded as well. "You might as well join them, I'm sure you also influenced Mrs. Mellark's sense of style a great deal, so Messalla will definitely have some questions for you."

Cinna avoided Katniss's eye as she and Peeta were ushered out of the house by their interviewer, Castor trailing behind them. It wouldn't do for either of them to burst into giggles right now.

"Well!" Messalla said when the door had closed. He took a seat in one of Mrs. Everdeen's armchairs and gestured at the couch opposite him. Cinna and Portia obediently sat down.

"Camera's rolling?" he checked with Pollux, who gave him a thumbs up. "Excellent. Let's get started, shall we?"

* * *

><p>It was half past eleven by the time Katniss (sans apron) and the others returned. Cressida politely turned down Mrs. Everdeen's offer of lunch, explaining, "Peeta and Katniss already baked us some lovely carrot cake while we interviewed them. Besides, it's time for us to go. All of our equipment is set up in the Justice Building and we have to have these interviews edited and ready to go by six."<p>

"You're timing is perfect," Peeta said. "My shift starts at noon. We can walk to the town square together."

"Can I come?" Prim asked eagerly. She scrambled to her feet, the movement dislodging the cat that had been curled up in her lap and sending him sprawling.

"Oh, sorry!" she told Buttercup who, perhaps merely on principle, hissed at Katniss like it was her fault before running off. Katniss stared after him with a smug smile on her face.

"Like a five year old, honestly, always trying to one up that cat…" Mrs. Everdeen muttered under her breath.

In the end, only Mrs. Everdeen and Portia stayed behind. It took the rest of them ten minutes to reach the square, where they said farewell to the camera crew, and another ten to reach the bakery, where Katniss kissed her husband goodbye as her mother-in-law scowled at them through the window, as per usual.

"Where to now?" Cinna asked the girls after the door had swung shut behind Peeta. "Back to your mother's house?"

"Let's not go back yet," said Prim. "The interviews aren't on 'til seven, we can't spend all that time cooped up at home."

"We could shop around for a while," Cinna suggested.

So they did. Katniss made a show of buying fabrics for the clothes she would supposedly make, Cinna bought Prim a flower to put in her hair, and Prim bought cat treats and a new collar for Buttercup, as he had chewed and scratched his old one to pieces. (As he had all the ones before it. Prim, Katniss had told Cinna over the phone nearly a year ago, had yet to realize that the reason Buttercup destroyed every collar he was given was that he hated them. Katniss had not, however, told Cinna that she had taken to encouraging the purchase of these collars.

"You really hate that cat, don't you?" Cinna muttered out of the corner of his mouth, fighting back a grin.

"I really, really do," Katniss whispered back and then said to Prim, louder and far more gleefully, "Why don't you get the one with the little jingling bell?")

Afterwards, they wandered about aimlessly. Cinna looked around him and realized that at some point they'd strolled right into what must've been the Seam. The sunken, hopeless faces of many of the people here reminded him of the kids he'd grown up with in the orphanage.

"Shouldn't we go back?" he asked.

The girls both stopped walking. Katniss frowned off into the distance, clearly deliberating. "No," she said finally. "Let's go to the old house."

"The old house?" Prim repeated, staring at her older sister. "_Our_ old house? I thought—"

"It's quiet there. Peaceful."

Prim's eyes widened and she glanced at Cinna. He glanced back, equally uncertain.

But baffled though they were, when Katniss began walking again, they followed her all the same.

* * *

><p>The Everdeens's old house was…small. Worn. And dusty—very dusty. It was a lot like the orphanage Cinna had grown up in, in that everything about the place screamed of poverty. The orphanage had been a lot bigger, of course, but with so many children living there it hadn't felt like it.<p>

Katniss set her fabrics down on the wobbly kitchen table and then wandered into a room that Cinna assumed had once been her bedroom.

As they set their purchases down on the table with Katniss's, Prim whispered to Cinna, "None of us come here anymore. I mean, except for Buttercup, but I don't think Katniss has been back since before the wedding."

That explained why Prim had been so surprised that Katniss had wanted to come here today. Why _had_ Katniss wanted to visit today of all days? Cinna thought of the look she'd given the woods beyond the Meadow just before they'd entered the house, the longing in her gaze so intense it almost seemed tangible, and he was glad an electrified fence stood in her way. Not that she would actually sneak into the woods even if she could—not now that she was so close to finally getting her family to safety.

Katniss reappeared just then, with a bag full of…what, exactly?

"My father's old jacket," Katniss said, evidently having noticed the wary look Cinna had cast at the bag. "I've been meaning to bring it home, but I—" _wasn't ready to let go of this place,_ her eyes said, "kept forgetting."

"And now you've remembered," he said.

"Yes."

Prim glanced back and forth between them, then said abruptly, "I want to go play in the Meadow, for old time's sake. By myself," she added, when Katniss automatically took a step towards the door. "You should both sit down, I might be a while."

A second later she was gone, and there wasn't much else for Cinna and Katniss to do but take Prim's suggestion (order, if Cinna was being honest).

"Can I see it?" he asked without knowing why. Maybe just for something to say. "Your father's jacket?"

Katniss's eyes never left his as she turned the bag over and emptied its contents onto the table between them. Cinna broke the connection, turning his gaze away as he picked up the jacket and examined it. It was big—not very, but certainly too big for Katniss. Made of soft leather—well-made, at that.

"It's very nice," he said quietly, handing the jacket back to Katniss. She didn't put it back in the bag.

He didn't want to look at her. If he looked at her he'd have to confess what he'd learned about Peeta. So he looked at the table instead, and realized something else had fallen out of the bag.

"Are those my gloves?" he asked.

"Oh!" Katniss blinked. "I guess they are? Oh, I remember now. Yeah, they're yours. You left them with me. After the Victory Tour, I think? I tried to give them to Gale but he wouldn't take them."

"You tried to give them to Gale? The gloves I forgot?" He attempted to look as offended as possible.

"I thought you'd wanted me to have them," she protested. "You had at least five other pairs with you, I didn't think you'd care and— And you're winding me up."

Laughing, Cinna said, "Takes you a while sometimes, but you always get there in the end." He ignored her glare. "Of course I wanted you to have them; I never accidentally leave clothes behind. I would've left more, but I thought you'd have a hard enough time trying to get Gale to take the gloves, let alone a coat and a hat as well."

"Well, you were right. He wouldn't take the gloves. Thanks anyway."

He shrugged. "Least I could do."

They sat in silence for a while, until Cinna couldn't take it anymore and said, "Listen, there's something I have to tell you. It's about—" He couldn't finish. He couldn't do it, he couldn't break her heart like this. The house was more than likely bugged anyways, surely this wasn't the ideal time to tell her? Surely he could put it off for a little while longer.

Except that Snow wouldn't be angry if Katniss knew; he'd probably get some sort of sick satisfaction out of her pain.

Katniss looked at curiously for minute, perhaps wondering why he was for once tongue-tied, and then her face lit up with something that just a bit too uncertain to be comprehension.

"Is this about the talk you had with President Snow? Because Haymitch told me—"

"He told you about Peeta?" Cinna blurted, incredulous. The older man had seemed so against it.

"—about how he lied and how President Snow never threatened us, and I've been meaning to ask you if you—" She was talking extremely fast, uncharacteristically nervous, (was she fidgeting?) and so it took her a few seconds to process what he'd said. "Peeta? What about Peeta?"

"What have you been meaning to ask me?" Partly stalling for time, partly burning with curiosity. (She was _fidgeting_!)

"Never mind," she said impatiently. (And blushing!) "What about Peeta? What did _President Snow tell you about Peeta_?"

He took a deep breath, reached out and covered one of her hands, both of which were clutching her father's old jacket tightly enough to make her knuckles pale, with one of his own. "When you were in the hospital, you couldn't go to any…appointments."

"Yes," she said slowly, "I know."

"Well, President Snow— He didn't like that."

Katniss shot him a look that clearly said _Get to the point now_.

And he knew he finally had to. "Instead of giving your patrons a refund, he sent Peeta in your place."

There was long pause that seemed to last an eternity.

"In my place?" Katniss echoed at last in a mechanical voice. "To my appointments."

"Yes."

"In my place. He— Those men, they—"

"Yes." Cinna closed his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"He never said," Katniss whispered, and she sounded like she'd gone numb. "He never mentioned, all that time I was in the hospital, and he always had to leave before nine but I never thought—"

"He didn't want you to know," Cinna said, opening his eyes. The look on her face right now was ten times worse than he'd feared. "He wanted to spare you the pain. So he didn't tell you, and he made Haymitch promise not to tell you—"

"He should've told me anyway!" she burst out suddenly, pulling her hand out Cinna's grasp. Her other hand released its grip on the jacket. "How long have you known?"

"Since Davenport's Gala. There was no time to tell you then, and I couldn't do it over the phone."

He expected her to blow up at him, but she just nodded like she accepted his answer, her shoulders slumping, her head falling into her hands.

"Katniss?"

Cinna turned; Katniss raised her head. Prim was standing in the doorway, staring at her sister with a mixture of worry and alarm.

"You done?" The older girl pushed her chair back, seemingly unaware of the resulting scraping sound that made both of her companions cringe, and stood up, stuffing her father's jacket and, after a moment's hesitation, Cinna's gloves back into the bag, which she then slung over her shoulder. "Let's head back."

"Katniss," Cinna said, not moving from his seat.

"What," she snapped. "_What_?"

"What did you want to ask me? Before. You wanted to ask me something." That wasn't what he'd wanted to say, what he'd been meaning to say; it just seemed like the easiest thing to say. His curiosity had faded. Whatever she'd been meaning to ask, it hardly seemed to matter.

As if reading his thoughts, Katniss said, "Doesn't matter." She strode over to the door and gently pushed past Prim. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>On the train ride home that evening, Cinna and Portia watched the interviews. Theirs was first. It wasn't particularly interesting, maybe because he already knew how it went, or maybe because he was so distracted.<p>

Had he done the right thing, telling Katniss? Without doubt, she'd been better off not knowing, but that couldn't last forever. Had he been right about it hurting more in the long run? Or had Peeta and Haymitch been right about sparing her the pain for as long as possible?

Katniss and Peeta's interview managed to capture some of his attention, because he wanted to know what Plutarch had meant when he'd said he intended to have the two young victors start off the talent segments with a bang.

He noticed that it took place partly in the living room of Peeta's house (though officially the house belonged to both the star-crossed lovers, and Katniss slept there most nights to avoid arousing suspicion) with all the paintings and outfits, and partly in the kitchen, where Katniss and Peeta were indeed baking what looked to be a carrot cake (in their matching checkered aprons) as they took turns answering questions about their respective talents.

Prim popped up at one point; Cinna had obeyed the instructions he'd been given and dressed her like a little girl, but watching her on the screen looking and behaving like she was half her actual age while Katniss and Peeta basically babied and cooed at her made wonder: What on _Earth_ had Plutarch told her? What was he playing at? First the domestic routine, and now this?

"We've all seen the outfit you're wearing today before," Cressida was saying now, "except for those earrings. Is there a story behind them?"

As Cinna watched, Katniss straightened up from where she'd been peering into the oven, looked over at her husband and smiled.

He smiled back and said, "They were my mother's. My father gave them to her for their very first anniversary, and his mother gave them to him, and her husband gave them to her… I think they go back at least six generations. After I proposed my mother gave them to me to give to Katniss for our first anniversary."

"I'll just bet she did," Portia snorted. She'd met Mrs. Mellark, after all.

"I don't think we've ever seen you wear them before now," Cressida observed. "Why the delay?"

Katniss laughed. "I've been so paranoid about losing them that they've been sitting in my bedside drawer gathering dust for months."

"We're deeply flattered that you consider this interview important enough to be their debut," Cressida teased.

Katniss and Peeta smiled at each other again.

"We got some very exciting news recently, so I decided it was finally time to break the earrings out," Katniss said, beaming so wide and so very, very fake. Not that anyone who didn't really know her could tell.

"Oh?" Cressida raised an eyebrow. "How exciting are we talking here?"

Peeta leaned back against the counter and drew his wife into his arms. "Don't listen to her, it was my idea to bring the earrings out of retirement. I told her, 'You might as well start wearing them now, they're not going to be yours for much longer!'"

Perplexed, their interviewer said, "Pardon?"

"Well, she'll only get to keep them for so long," Peeta said, and then he dropped a bomb that would definitely distract the Capitol and maybe even President Snow. "You know, what with the baby coming."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Yes, I am very unoriginal and I did just steal a fairly major twist from <strong>_**Catching Fire**_**. In my defense, this story is actually about Cinna and Katniss's romance, not the rebellion. (Even though I'm not doing a very good job right now of focusing on the former. I just want Cinna to sort of have a life outside Katniss.) **

**And once again I took forever to update. At least this chapter's a long one? Also you might've noticed that I changed the summary; this is because the old summary didn't really fit the story (and made little to no sense whatsoever). **

**Next chapter might be the last, but depending on how long it gets I might split it into two chapters.**

**In response to **imadinosauristicharrypotterfan**'s review****: Any resemblance to the fic you read is unintentional. Everyone who writes for the Hunger Games trilogy uses the same source material, so similarities are inevitable. In the books, the safest place from Snow is District 13, and Plutarch brings people to District 13 in a hovercraft. So I figured anyone who needed to get to safety in this fic would be transported to District 13 in a hovercraft. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: The Flames Rose Higher**

**Warnings: See first chapter for warnings.**

**Notes: Thanks to anyone with the patience to still be reading this and I'm sorry it took me so long to update. Also, thanks to the people who favourited this story or put it on alert, and special thanks to **Bloodredfirefly, letthesongtakeflight** and **water **for reviewing last chapter!**

**Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the **_**Hunger Games**_** trilogy. I am not Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Flames Rose Higher<strong>

**Chapter Ten – Katniss**

"Evelena."

"Too long. Gretel."

"From that old fairy-tale?" Katniss pulled a face. "With the breadcrumbs and the house made of sweets and the cannibal witch? I don't think so."

Peeta rolled his eyes at his wife's instant dismissal. "Okay, forget about girl names for now. If it's a boy, Gibbin."

"Gibbin," she said flatly. "You want to name our son _Gibbin_."

For a moment they stared each other down, until Peeta's remarkably sincere expression cracked and he burst into laughter.

"No. Just wanted to see your face," he gasped out, prompting Katniss to lightly smack the arm wrapped around her shoulders.

"Carson," a quiet voice suggested.

Katniss turned to look at its owner. She'd almost forgotten that they were having this conversation in an attempt to fool Snow into thinking they really were having a baby, and that they'd roped Madge and Gale into unknowingly helping them.

"Oh, that's a nice one."

"Well, too bad, it's taken," Gale said gruffly. He was sitting beside his girlfriend on the couch opposite them, hand hovering protectively over her baby bump, his posture ramrod straight. He and Katniss had yet to talk about mending their friendship, and he still wasn't fully comfortable in Peeta's house, but at least he was there.

_My house too,_ she reminded herself. Two days after Davenport's Gala, the star-crossed lovers had received written (and coded) instructions from Plutarch to announce during their interview with Cressida that Katniss was pregnant. They'd had a little over five weeks before the talent segments were to begin, and knowing a simple declaration to the entirety of Panem wouldn't convince President Snow, they'd started preparing right away.

'Preparing' involved staging a tearful reconciliation that very night where the President would be sure to hear them and Katniss immediately moving into Peeta's house for real. It also involved husband and wife having sex for the first time since their wedding night, but there'd been no way to avoid that. They couldn't be completely celibate and then expect everyone to believe they were having a baby.

Thinking about it made her sick. Because they both knew someone in the Capitol had been listening to their every sigh. Because neither of them had wanted it. Because looking back on that night confirmed what Cinna had told her: Peeta had been violated just as she had. Remembering his reaction to every kiss, every touch, left no doubt in her mind.

Peeta's memories of what his _(except they weren't his, they were yours, it was _your_ fault, he went in _your_ place_,a voice in her head whispered to her_)_ patrons had done to him were fresh and raw in a way Katniss's weren't. It wasn't that she'd gotten used to any of it, but she'd stopped feeling quite like she would rather have her skin flayed off than let anyone touch her like that ever again nearly a year ago.

The aftermath of that night was a blur of more soul-destroying (in the worst way possible) sex and a multitude of staged conversations, each seeming to Katniss more ridiculous than the last.

("Uh, Peeta, have you been taking the pills lately?"

"The pills?"

"You know. _The pills_."

"Oh! Those pills. No, I haven't. Doesn't matter, right, because you've been taking them— You _have_ been taking them?"

"I took one that lasts thirty days—"

"—oh, good—"

"—eight weeks ago."

"…"

"…"

"_Well_.")

("Are you sure you're okay?"

"Peeta, for the last time, I am _fine_."

"It's just, this is the fourth morning in a row you've thrown up."

"…"

"…"

"Well, you must've poisoned me."

"_Excuse_ me? Poisonedyou."

"Yes."

"_Poisoned _you."

"Yes, Peeta. Those cheese buns you brought home on Monday looked rancid."

"Ah, _no_. No, I _really _don't think so."

"You must've."

"…Did you hear about that weird bug going around?"

"…All right, fine, I'll take it. Go get me more ice cream.")

("What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're emptying out your storage room."

"Storage? No, this is all junk, I've been meaning to clear it out for ages."

"…I see. And what are you planning to do with this room once you've taken everything out?"

"Turn it into a guest room."

"A guest room. Last time I suggested that, you said under no circumstances were we to have a guest room on our floor, let alone right next to our bedroom, in case someone like Effie was to stay over."

"I changed my mind."

"Would you like some help? I could start on that side of the room— Katniss."

"What?"

"Katniss. How long has that been there?"

"How long has what been there?"

"The bird cage you bought for Prim that she gave back after Buttercup ate the imaginatively-named Chirp. The _chainsaw_, Katniss, how long has the _chainsaw_ been there."

"Oh! I don't know, always?"

"You keep _a chainsaw_ in your storage room?"

"Yes."

"In the storage room right next to our bedroom."

"Yes?"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"_So_, after everything's cleared out, I was thinking you could paint the walls like a treehouse theme— Where are you going? Peeta. Peeta, don't be stupid, if I wanted to kill you with a chainsaw I would've done it a _long_ time ago— Fine! Keep running, see if I care! …I want more ice cream! …And maybe a few dozen pickles!")

How they kept up the relatively cheerful (and slightly insane) act, Katniss would never know. She had worried they were being too obvious, but Haymitch, who was receiving regular reports from Plutarch, had told her that Snow and his eavesdroppers were eating up every word. She hadn't fully believed him because he hadn't been particularly honest with her lately (she doubted she'd ever forgive him for what Peeta had been through and for not telling her, though she supposed that really depended on whether or not she could ever forgive herself), but now that Phase 1 of Plutarch's rescue operation had been successfully completed, seemingly without arousing even the vaguest suspicion, she was beginning to relax.

Panem's focus right now was split between Katniss and Peeta's supposed unborn child and Maple's upcoming Victory Tour, which meant any day now Phase 2 would be launched. Katniss was so anxious to finally have her loved ones safe (or as safe as anyone could be in a world like the one she lived in) that she sometimes felt like she was counting the hours until that day arrived.

She sighed heavily and was then pulled out of her reverie by the abrupt halt of the heated debate between her three companions.

Madge reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "I know how overwhelming it can all be sometimes," she said, "especially the part where you have a tiny life growing inside you. But at least we're going through it together."

After their guests had left, Katniss found herself in the washroom bent over the toilet with Peeta holding her hair out of her face and rubbing her back soothingly as she brought up everything she'd eaten so far today. Her entire life was built on lies, had been ever since her sister's name had been drawn out of that glass bowl; lying to Madge for the greater good shouldn't have left her feeling as guilty as she did.

_Shouldn't have_ didn't make it any better, but the next time she saw her friend she put on a phony smile anyway.

* * *

><p>Sitting on the couch feigning interest in whatever was playing on the television screen in front of her (she honestly couldn't have said what she was watching if her life depended on it, she was so out of it) as she waited to hear about the untimely deaths of Maple and the girl's entire family was just about the most nerve-wracking thing she'd ever done, second only to standing in that glass tube waiting to be lifted up into the arena.<p>

She tried not to seem too tense, but judging by the way Peeta was stroking the back of her hand with his thumb (half comfort, half warning), she was failing miserably.

Her mother, sister and the Hawthornes plus Madge had left for the woods nearly eight hours ago in the dead of night. Katniss had no way of knowing if they'd made it to the lake (_my lake, my father's lake_) where the hovercraft was supposed to pick them up; she had no way of knowing if they'd even made it to the fence. She had no idea if Cinna had made it to his designated rendezvous point in the Capitol, or if he even intended to keep his promise and go to District 13 with the others at all.

So many things could go wrong with the plan. Her family could already be dead. Haymitch could be lying in a pool of his own blood next door, courtesy of Peacekeepers that were even now headed for Katniss and Peeta. President Snow could be preparing to wage all-out war on the districts, or to wipe out one altogether.

Peeta's lips brushed the shell of her ear and, with what seemed like a monumental effort, she forced her muscles to loosen and leaned even further into him. She felt him shift slightly and then mouth something against her cheek; she wasn't exactly sure what, but it was probably something along the lines of, _It will be okay, they will be okay, everything will be okay_.

It helped as much as anything could've on a day like today. Peeta released her hand and moved his own to rest over her belly, keeping up the charade even now. Katniss tried not to think of the betrayal that had been written all over Madge's face when she finally learned her friend wasn't really pregnant; they'd had to confess, because Madge and Gale had kept trying to convince them that Katniss needed to come to District 13 where she and the fictional baby growing inside her would be safe.

There went her efforts at relaxing. But it didn't matter because at the exact moment, the ridiculous soap-opera she was pretending to watch was interrupted by Caesar Flickerman who, to quote the man himself, was bringing them what was undoubtedly "the most devastating, tragic, live breaking news" they'd ever heard.

* * *

><p>Katniss gripped the gun in her coat pocket tightly with her right hand as she hurried down the street. It wasn't safe to be out in the open and besides, if she wasn't back in exactly two minutes, she would miss precious seconds of her window of opportunity.<p>

One day of every week for exactly ten minutes, any and all surveillance in one of the rooms in Peeta and Katniss's house abruptly shut off. Well, Katniss wasn't entirely sure if it _actually_ shut off or if Beetee just played a loop over and over or something; all she knew was that she got to talk to her loved ones in District 13 once a week, and that she had to listen carefully for the beep that meant Snow's people had noticed the breach and were about to override it.

It had only happened to Katniss once. Peeta had been at Haymitch's at the time because he'd been worried about the screaming they'd heard from inside—it was hard to get food nowadays, let alone liquor, and sobriety was pure hell for Haymitch. Katniss had been in the middle of reassuring Prim of Buttercup's continued health (13 had been willing to accept the goat, but not the cat; a sign of good taste, Katniss figured, though she was less than thrilled that she now had to take care of the little devil herself) when the beep sounded. She'd had no choice but to hang up immediately—without getting the time and place of the next phone call, which changed from week to week to avoid being predictable.

She and Peeta were always given the time and place of the next call before the current one ended so they would know to be in the right room with their cell phones at the designated time. Because she'd been forced to hang up early, she and Peeta had spent the following week with at least one of them in the house at all times, waiting for Beetee to cut off the surveillance in whatever room they were in at the time so someone could safely call. Katniss had been out when the call finally came, so she'd had to wait another week to hear her sister's voice again.

Having finally reached her and Peeta's house, Katniss unlocked the front door and slipped inside. She wanted to go straight to the storage room-turned-nursery, where Peeta was undoubtedly already talking to his father, but it would look suspicious if that was the first thing she did upon returning home. So instead she put the soup Greasy Sae had given her in the fridge, shrugged off her bulky coat (she hated the thing, but it hid the fact that she wasn't really pregnant and she didn't have to bother with the fake baby bump as long as she was wearing the coat) and hung it on the coat rack, and then picked up a stuffed toy she spotted lying on the couch—she had a feeling Peeta had left it there, for which she was grateful; it gave her an excuse to head to the nursery.

"Peeta, I thought I told you not to leave this stuff lying around!" she called out. Hearing no answer, she feigned an exasperated sigh and marched upstairs to the room she and her husband had designed for a baby that wasn't real. Peeta was, as she'd guessed, already there. He smiled at her briefly before turning his attention back to whoever he was conversing with; it sounded like they were arguing, and Katniss made a mental note to ask him about it later.

As soon as Katniss closed the nursery door behind her, her cell rang. As she flipped it open and pressed the talk button, she wondered who would be on the other end this time. Who she got to talk to each week depended on who was busy at the time and who wasn't. Prim was in-training to become a healer but she was usually available. Katniss's mother and Cinna were a different story, as they both had demanding jobs. She heard from the Hawthornes (mostly Hazelle, Vick and Posy; Rory was busy playing soldier and Gale was busy actually being one) and Madge every so often. She'd even talked to Mags and Annie once; they both sounded okay except for missing Finnick.

"Katniss?"

Instantly, a smile stole over her face. "Hey, Prim. How are you?"

"I'm great, I'm learning so much! What have you been up to today?"

Katniss thought about lying, about giving in to the instinct to shield her little sister from the horrors of the world—an instinct that would, perhaps, never truly fade no matter how old they both were. But truthfully, when it came to injuries and sickness and death Prim had seen far more than Katniss had and was far more composed in the face of it all.

"I went to Greasy Sae's. There was another bombing in the square and her granddaughter was caught in it. I was worried for a while we would have to amputate, but I think I got there in time." She then listed off all the steps she'd taken to ensure the little girl wouldn't lose her leg like Peeta had, trying not to picture the bloodied, mangled limb she'd worked on for three hours.

When she was done, Prim said, "It sounds like you did everything right. I'm sure she'll be fine."

"It's all thanks to you and Mother for passing on your expertise to me," Katniss said lightly, at last managing to banish the memory that was entirely too red.

"Speaking of Mother, she had to work today but she said to tell you she hopes you're doing well and she'll try to make sure she's free next time."

"Tell her it's fine. It's all fine." Katniss hesitated for a moment, then decided to give a little. "And tell her I miss her."

"I will," Prim said, and just from her tone Katniss knew her sister was smiling.

Somewhere between embarrassed and proud of herself, Katniss quickly changed to subject. "So, Mother's not there, but what about Cinna?"

"He's talking to Peeta right now," Prim said.

Startled, Katniss whipped around to stare at Peeta, who met her gaze with a sheepish expression. He was arguing with _Cinna_? About what?

"You know what, how about we continue this discussion later?" he said into the phone. She couldn't hear what Cinna said in response, but it made Peeta grin. "Something like that. Yeah. Yeah, sure. You too. Thanks. Bye." A couple seconds later: "Hey, Rye, how's the wife?"

"Okay, never mind, he's done." Prim drew her attention away from Peeta. "Do you want me to pass the phone to him now? I think I'm needed in the hospital anyway."

On the one hand, the odds of Katniss actually getting Cinna to tell her what he and Peeta had been arguing about were somewhere around a million to one and definitely not in her favor. On the other, she hadn't heard his voice in seventeen days. (Not that she was purposely keeping track, or anything, it was just…really simple math, that was all.)

"Yeah, Prim, thanks. We'll talk more next week," Katniss promised.

"Next week," Prim agreed. "I love you."

"I love you too."

There was silence for a few moments as Prim presumably passed the phone on to Cinna.

"Katniss."

At the sound of his voice in her ear, Katniss was reminded of late nights spent curled up in bed with a cordless phone clutched in her hand as they talked about everything and nothing, but she was also reminded of him telling her that Peeta had suffered in her place.

"Hey. How goes everything with Maple?" she asked lightly.

"Good. They've filmed a few more clips with her in costume, you've probably seen them." He paused for a bit and then asked carefully, "What's wrong?"

How did he always know? "Nothing. Everything's fine. How've you been?"

"Busy," he said, and he sounded wary now. Good.

"Busy with the rebellion, or busy conspiring with Peeta?" she asked sternly, mostly to distract him from trying to figure out what was really bothering her.

"You'll have better luck trying to intimidate your husband into confessing, I'm afraid," he said, and she could picture his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. "I intend to take this secret to my grave."

"I can arrange that."

"I'm sure you could."

Katniss rolled her eyes and said, "If you're going to be difficult, give the phone to someone else. Madge, if she's there."

"She is. Do you really want me to give it to her?"

"Yes." She tried to ignore the part of her that was screaming, _No!_

That day in her old house more than four months ago, she'd been prepared to do it, to actually ask him if the kiss had meant anything to him, and then he'd dropped that bombshell… She'd taken that as fate's way of saying she shouldn't pursue anything more with him. (And how, _how _could she possibly even think of finding any sort of happiness for herself after what Peeta had been through because of her?)

The more she talked to Cinna the more her resolve weakened. Except it worked the other way around as well. The more she _didn't_ talk to him the more she missed him. The more she wanted him.

Unable to stop herself, she added, "I just want to hear how she's doing. I'll have her pass the phone back to you when she's done."

"I'll count the seconds 'til then," he teased.

"You're ridiculous. Go away."

Laughing, he did as she said, and seconds later Madge greeted her cheerfully. The first time she'd spoken to her friend on the phone had been awkward. There'd been clipped tones and drawn out silences and then suddenly, without Katniss ever apologizing or offering any explanation, Madge had forgiven her and told her it was okay. Now they talked fairly regularly, usually about Madge's pregnancy and her fights with Gale which had started shortly after they'd arrived in District 13 and which were becoming more and more frequent. ("He's always so restless, you know, like he's dying to get out of here and throw himself head-first into the fighting," Madge had told her a couple weeks ago, with a weary sigh. "And every time he goes on missions I'm terrified he'll never come back, but when he stays we just argue and argue and sometimes I worry he feels like we're tying him down, the baby and me.")

This time Madge just updated her on the continued well-being of herself ("I'm fine, I just can't see my feet when I look down anymore and no one lets me do anything!"), the baby ("We just found out it's definitely a boy.") and the Hawthornes ("Rory keeps trying to convince me to give the baby a second name, but I don't know. Carson Rory Hawthorne? It's a mouthful, right?") before handing the phone back to Cinna.

"How much time do we have left?" Katniss asked him. Not much, she knew, but she couldn't think of anything else to say to him. Or maybe the problem was that she could think of _everything_ to say to him, so many words on the tip of her tongue and it was just too difficult right now to sift through them all and discard the ones that weren't important enough to be spoken and the ones that shouldn't be spoken at all.

"Couple minutes, at most. I guess I should give you next week's time now just in case—"

He fell silent so abruptly that Katniss almost panicked. District 13 was the safest place in Panem right now, but nowhere was _completely_ safe. However, the rational part of her brain told her that Cinna was probably currently engaged in conversation with someone else, and she was quickly proven right when he told her, "Never mind. I have to go, Fulvia Cardew wants to talk to you. I'll see you soon. Please be careful."

"With what?" she asked, but there was no response from him. "What do you mean you'll see me soon?"

And why would Fulvia Cardew want to talk to her? She and Peeta often gave reports to one of Coin's representatives on what was happening in District 12, but based on what Gale had told her it sounded like Fulvia Cardew was so high up she had basically replaced Plutarch. The chances of her being the representative tasked with gathering info on 12 this week were slim to none.

"He means," said Fulvia Cardew, "that you're coming to District Thirteen. There'll be a hovercraft waiting for you by the lake at exactly nineteen minutes past 4 A.M. Don't be late, and _don't_ let anyone see you."

* * *

><p>"I don't like this," Peeta had muttered. "Why do they want you in 13 all of a sudden?"<p>

"I don't know, but I'm going," Katniss had immediately replied.

They'd had barely half a minute left before the surveillance came back on, so Peeta hadn't been able to protest. He'd shot her unhappy looks every so often for the remainder of the night, but all the same when it came time for her to sneak out she'd found the front door already unlocked.

Now here she was by the lake that she still thought of as hers and her father's, having safely snuck past the Peacekeepers on the night watch, slipped beneath the fence that for once wasn't electrified—Beetee's work, no doubt—and made her way through the woods that she'd been missing for nearly two years now.

What if this was a trap? She didn't know much about Fulvia Cardew other than that she was Plutarch's assistant (which, frankly, didn't make her that much more inclined to trust the woman). Cinna had seemed on board with the plan, though, so she'd decided to take the risk.

Her gamble ended up paying off, and soon enough she was in a hovercraft headed to 13. To be more exact, she was in a hovercraft sitting across from Finnick Odair and a soldier with close-cropped gray hair, blue eyes and ridiculously perfect posture.

"Boggs_,"_ he'd introduced himself. _President Coin's right-hand man, _was what Gale had described him as on one of the rare occasions she'd gotten to talk to him on the phone.

If she had to pick one word to describe him, it would be _silent_. If she got to pick two, it would be _unnervingly silent_. So silent they were venturing into _awkward_ territory, complete with Katniss's feeble attempts at small-talk and Finnick's lame ice-breaker jokes. But then, Boggs wasn't here to make conversation, and neither were she and Finnick.

What they were actually there for, they had not yet been informed. Finnick's presence had been demanded (he told her) and he wasn't about to pass up the chance to see Annie and Mags (he didn't tell her, but that part was a no-brainer), so here he was. And here she was, because she wasn't about to pass up the chance to see her family and friends, either, since she'd spent approximately three months wondering if she'd ever see them again.

Not that she would be allowed anywhere near Prim and the others until she'd done whatever it was she'd been brought to 13 for. As relieved as she was to have the majority of her loved ones away from all the rioting and the violence taking place in most of the districts, the fear that they would be used to ensure her cooperation was still lurking in the back of her mind like a persistent rash. Katniss was under no illusions that just because President Coin was the leader of the 'good' side she would be above using the same ruthless tactics as the 'evil' side to get what she wanted.

There was a lot Katniss would do to help the rebellion and bring Snow and his corrupt government down, but she had her limits. Lengths she wouldn't go to. Lines she wouldn't cross.

How far would Coin go? Where did she draw the line?

As an automated voice from overhead speakers announced that they would be landing in less than five minutes, all Katniss could think was _I hope I never find out._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I think I've probably said at least three times that there's only a one or two chapters left, but this time I can say with certainty there's only two chapters left, plus an epilogue.<strong>

**Also, good news—I have the next chapter completely written out (it's a long one, around 6000 words), and chapter 12 is in the works. I waited until I was ahead to post this chapter, because I didn't want to post something and then take like another six months or whatever to update.**

**I'll post the next chapter either on March 23 or when I finish chapter 12, whichever comes first.**

**Next time: Finnick and Katniss admit some stuff to all of Panem, Cinna and Katniss finally admit some stuff to each other, and three people die (none of them are major characters).**


	11. Chapter 11

**Title: The Flames Rose Higher**

**Warnings: See first chapter for warnings.**

**Notes: Thanks to anyone with the patience to still be reading this. Also, thanks to the people who favorited this story or put it on alert, and special thanks to **vhs**, **Not Just A Reader - A Fangirl**,** Akage987 **and **NorthAmericanJaguar** for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the **_**Hunger Games**_** trilogy. I am not Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Flames Rose Higher<strong>

**Chapter Eleven – Cinna**

As soon as Katniss and Finnick stepped into the room, Cinna felt relief wash over him. They were alive, they were safe, they'd made it to 13 in one piece—something Cinna had doubted would happen, despite Fulvia Cardew's many empty reassurances.

His relief took on a nervous edge as he watched Katniss shake President Coin's hand. The President wasn't inclined to tolerate defiance and Katniss, despite everything, still had a defiant streak left in her. But for now Katniss just released the older woman's hand and studied her warily.

Then it was Finnick's turn to introduce himself to Coin. While he was shaking her hand, Katniss glanced around the room, perhaps searching for clues on why they'd been brought to 13. Cinna knew the exact moment she caught sight of him, because her face contorted oddly like it didn't know whether to smile or grimace. From this, he gathered that she was happy to see him but she knew his presence here meant makeover time, which meant she and Finnick would be doing some form of public speaking.

_It's so much worse than that,_ Cinna thought to himself. He wanted so badly to take both victors by the hand and drag them as far away as possible from President Coin and the task she'd so thoughtlessly assigned to them. He wasn't sure what the punishment for that would be, but given what the heartless woman had had done to his prep team over a single, insignificant stolen slice of bread, he figured his only real option was to let Coin go through with her plans. Katniss would not appreciate him temporarily saving her from emotional pain if he was beaten senseless for it.

Once the introductions were over, Coin immediately got down to business and addressed the two victors: "As I'm sure you're both aware, Phase Two of the relocation plan resulted in Plutarch Heavensbee being taken into Capitol custody."

Finnick's expression was a mask of polite patience. Katniss's was a mixture of _Get to the point_ and _Is that a euphemism for 'He was captured and he's probably either dead or being tortured within an inch of his life as we speak'?_

Finnick glanced at her briefly and then turned back to Coin. He cleared his throat quietly and said, "We're aware, yes."

Of course they were. Everyone was. Nearly everyone had seen the 'breaking news' about the supposed deaths of Maple and her entire family, and nearly everyone had seen that news quickly proven false. They'd seen Maple and her family rush to board the hovercraft and they'd seen Plutarch Heavensbee disembark it. They'd seen him put up a damn good fight with the Peacekeepers until the hovercraft had taken off and was out of sight, at which point Plutarch had surrendered.

The majority of the public had seen it, and somewhere in the Capitol someone had probably been killed for allowing that. Anyone who hadn't seen it on TV had heard about it from someone who had.

Cinna had witnessed it first hand, as had everyone else who was being relocated to District 13. Looking back, he still couldn't tell how much had been planned and how much had been spontaneous. They'd gotten to District 7, their last stop. The explosion had been set off; the reporters had rushed to the scene and proclaimed it a tragedy while Maple and her family made their way to the hovercraft in secret.

They should've been home free as long as they were careful, but something had gone wrong. They'd been seen, and Cinna still didn't know who or what was at fault.

Maybe it had been Coin's plan all along. Maybe Plutarch had gone rogue. Maybe there was a traitor in their midst. Maybe someone had made a mistake. Or maybe it was just a piece of really bad luck.

At the time, Cinna had thought it was the end and they were all done for. Any hope for revolution would die along with the Mockingjay; and Prim would never grow up to be one of Panem's best healer; and Annie would die screaming her head off, miles and miles and miles away from her lover; and Madge and Gale would never get to hold their newborn baby in their arms; and Katniss would have no one left but Haymitch and Peeta and that cat she pretended to hate.

Then Plutarch had pulled his stunt, and suddenly they'd been on their way to District 13 while he was undoubtedly dragged away to the Capitol to face the wrath of President Snow himself. Cinna could only imagine the horrors Plutarch had been subjected to in the last few weeks.

Coin's primary concern, however, was something else entirely. "His capture puts us in a dangerous position. He knows far more about the inner workings of the rebellion then almost any other living individual."

"You're afraid he'll crack," Finnick guessed.

"We have some people on the inside who've told us Snow has been doing everything in his power to extract information from Plutarch," Coin confirmed. "So far he's held his tongue."

"What does this have to do with us?"

"We need to rescue Plutarch before he gives up anything damaging," she said. Privately, Cinna thought she looked more annoyed with the ex-Head Gamemaker than worried about him. "And for that we need a distraction."

Katniss twitched like she was beginning to hate that last word, but the expression on her face remained stony even as she snarked, "Let me guess, you want to film me shopping for baby clothes—"

"We need something far more compelling than that," Coin said scornfully. "We need something even Snow himself couldn't turn away from."

"Like?" Katniss prompted.

Cinna met Katniss's eyes with an apologetic look and watched as realization slowly dawned on her face, watched as she put together the pieces. A distraction that could keep everyone, even Snow, glued to their screens. A distraction that required the presence of Finnick Odair and Katniss Everdeen, of all people. A distraction that involved the two of them getting a makeover and speaking to the public.

Cinna glanced at Finnick and could see he'd worked it out, too.

"Right," Finnick said with a hollow laugh. "What do you need us to say?"

* * *

><p>It was unbearably quiet as Cinna and the prep team prepared the two victors for the cameras. Both Finnick and Katniss seemed to have shut down; they paid no attention as their eyebrows were plucked, their hair combed. The only thing Katniss seemed to take note of was the change in the prep team since she'd last seen them, how nervous they were now, how their hands occasionally shook and how their eyes darted everywhere. She noticed, but for the time being she didn't seem to care.<p>

When they were done, Cinna looked them over. Finnick was dressed in regular pants and a regular shirt and overall he looked, for once, like a regular guy.

Katniss, on the other hand, was wearing a provocative red dress that was unnervingly at odds with the soft, girlish makeup on her face, the bow in her hair and especially the fake baby bump. And for once, she didn't look like a seductress, or a star-crossed lover, or even a victor; she looked like a young girl who'd played dress up with her mother's clothes and makeup…or a teenager who'd been forced into prostitution.

In other words, she looked like exactly who she was.

"You don't really have to say much, just play the part. Bring out the waterworks," Fulvia Cardew instructed her. "You're the victim here, and don't let them forget it."

But Katniss sat in her seat as she and Finnick explained what President Snow had demanded from them—from so many victors— and she did not cry. She sat there with Castor's camera trained on her and she did not look sad, or broken, or used.

She looked angry. She looked _furious—_eyebrows slanted down, eyes hard and resentful and glaring directly into the camera, mouth pressed in a thin line. She looked like she would gladly burn the whole world down around her and leave only herself standing.

Cinna wondered who her rage was directed at: President Snow, for selling her body against her will, for selling Peeta's? The people of the Capitol, for buying up nights and days with victors like they were venues to be rented or caterers to be hired for parties? The people of the districts, for believing the worst of her? President Coin, for making her sit down and admit all this on camera? All of the above?

The anger didn't fade even when the cameras turned their attention to Finnick, who told hair-raising, jaw-dropping tales of affairs and scandals and conspiracies. He spoke of adultery and fraud and murder, and of President Snow and poison.

Cinna glanced between the two victors. Katniss, with her fury. Finnick, with his secrets. And he knew Coin was right.

No one, not even President Snow, would be able to turn away from this.

* * *

><p>Afterwards, Coin released the two victors and granted them a couple hours with their loved ones. ("Only a couple," she said sternly. "They have schedules to adhere to.") Finnick left immediately; Katniss lingered long enough to tell Cinna to meet her in the cafeteria when he was done putting away "that stupid dress and the makeup and those torture devices you call hair brushes."<p>

So Cinna tidied everything up as quickly as possible and then went looking for Katniss; he found her sitting with the Mellarks at a table in the cafeteria. Upon glancing up and catching sight of Cinna standing in the doorway, she said something to her companions and went to join him.

"I'm going to see my family," she said. "Before they broadcast the—well, you know, the thing. Come with me?"

Her face tightened just a little when she said _the thing_, so he took her hand and gave it a squeeze, at the same time saying, "Of course."

She squeezed back and then pulled her hand from his grasp, which he'd been expecting, so it didn't bother him.

Katniss's mother and sister, as well as the Hawthornes and Madge, were waiting for Katniss when they arrived at the Everdeen's designated living space. Prim was ecstatic to see her sister. She was beaming as she got up from the bed and gave her sister a hug, and she didn't stop beaming even when Katniss shrugged her off after a couple seconds—something Cinna rarely remembered her doing to her sister.

Her mother and the assembled Hawthornes (where was Gale?) didn't even try going for a hug, but Madge did. It was very brief, and Cinna was sure Katniss only allowed it because she still felt guilty for lying to Madge about being pregnant.

"Where's Gale?" Katniss asked after pulling back from Madge, who stiffened, pursed her lips and then answered, "He went on the mission to rescue Plutarch."

"Oh."

The subject was immediately dropped and small-talk was made for the next hour or so. Mrs. Everdeen's and Mrs. Hawthorne's jobs, Prim's and Rory's training, Vick's and Posy's classes, Madge's pregnancy. Katniss was mostly quiet throughout but eventually, after Hazelle shooed Vick and Posy away to go eat their lunch, she directed the conversation to the rebellion. She wanted to know how things were going in the districts, as she didn't hear much about them despite the weekly phone calls.

"Tense," Mrs. Everdeen replied.

"Violent," was Rory's answer.

"Are we making any progress?"

"Progress as in getting the districts to go against the Capitol, or progress as in defeating the Capitol's forces?" Cinna asked.

"Both."

"3, 4, 5, 7, 10 and 11 are all fighting," Prim listed off. "8 is a little more reluctant after what happened last time, but they're coming around and so are 6 and 9."

"1 and 2?"

Hazelle sighed. "We're trying, but…" She shook her head helplessly. " In District Two, it's basically Lyme and a couple others versus Enobaria and the rest, most of whom are loyal to the Capitol, and in District One… Well, Cashmere and Gloss aren't on President Snow's side, but they don't seem too keen to go against him, either, and I doubt the others in 1 would be easy to sway in any case."

"They've always been fairly content with the way the Capitol run things," Katniss agreed. "It'd probably help to see we aren't fighting a losing battle." She paused. "_Are_ we fighting a losing battle?"

"We've got 4 and 7 almost completely under our control and we're holding our ground in 3, 10 and 11, but in 5..." Cinna trailed off. He wondered how many of his former peers were dead, if the florist and his grandkids were okay, if the stray dog that used to hang around the butcher's was starving or if she'd died a long time ago.

There was a dispirited silence, which Madge broke after a minute or two by asking, "What about 12? I know you've been giving us weekly reports and all, but there's only so much you can say over the phone."

"It's…" Katniss searched for an appropriate word for a moment before settling on, "Tense and violent, like you said. People are trying. More people than I expected, especially in the Seam. But the Head Peacekeeper is out of control, there's a public execution every other day and you're lucky if you can walk to the town square and back without losing a limb."

The others looked as alarmed by this news as Cinna felt, which was to say a whole lot. Katniss glanced from face to face before hastily retracting, "Well, I say every other day but if you look at the big picture there's actually been a decrease in executions since Thread was killed?"

"Yeah, Gale mentioned he'd kicked the bucket. I wasn't sure if I should believe it, seemed too good to be true," Rory said, and Cinna couldn't help but think how messed up it was that they lived in a world where a fourteen year old boy could be so _satisfied_ that someone was dead and no one scolded him because they all felt the same.

"You're being careful, right?" Mrs. Everdeen asked her daughter.

"Yes, Mother. I keep my gun with me whenever I leave the house. I even sleep with it under my pillow," she said, and she sounded sarcastic but Cinna wouldn't put it past her.

Before Mrs. Everdeen could do more than make a face at her daughter, someone knocked at the door which then opened to reveal a soldier—it was the shorn hair that tipped Cinna off, rather than the uniform that was just as gray as anyone else's outfit in this place—who informed them that the footage of Finnick and Katniss would be broadcast live to all of Panem in a few minutes while the rescue team infiltrated the Capitol.

"President Coin has said everyone is welcome to watch, it'll be playing in the cafeteria," she added. "Otherwise you're to return to your regular duties, and Mrs. Mellark, President Coin said she would like for you to—"

Katniss shot up from where she was seated on the bed, grabbed Cinna's wrist and dragged him along as she pushed past the soldier without a word. Cinna followed her without question as she wandered the hallways (gray walls, gray floor, District 13 was endlessly gray and Cinna hated it), opening doors and peering into rooms and then walking away, apparently unsatisfied with what she found in them, until at last she was.

"A supply closet," he noted as she closed the door behind them. "Interesting choice."

She flipped the light switch while he poked through the contents of a large plastic container on the shelf nearest to him. "Art supply closet," he corrected, holding up a box of crayons. "Look, an entire rainbow of colors."

"Not something you usually come across around here, is it?" Katniss asked, smirking at him. "This place must be a nightmare come true for you."

Cinna put the crayons down and studied his best friend closely. "Close to it, yeah. But you didn't bring me here to talk about that."

Katniss's smile slipped. "I didn't bring you here to talk about anything. I just…"

"Wanted to get away?" he guessed.

"Yeah." She took a seat on one of the boxes lining the floor.

Cinna sat down beside her and followed her gaze to the paint cans on the bottom shelf across from them. Several minutes went by before he decided that if he didn't say something, they'd be sitting here staring at paint cans until someone found them and kicked them out.

"You don't want them to see it," he said. "The footage."

"Of course I don't. I don't want anyone here to see it. They don't need to see it," Katniss said angrily. "Coin's only letting them because she wants them to hate the Capitol more than they already do. It's all just one big show, the footage, Plutarch's capture, this stupid pregnancy—" She reached under her shirt and tore off the fake baby bump, throwing it to the ground at her feet.

"What will they do when the due date arrives?" Cinna wondered, staring at the fake bump. "Stillbirth?"

"They'll probably steal some poor mother's baby and force Peeta and I to raise it," she scoffed.

"I'm sure they wouldn't."

"They would."

"They would," Cinna agreed with a sigh. "But they won't because they can't. You'd never agree to it. You'd shoot them first."

That made Katniss smile. "Fair enough."

She then asked for more details about the plan to rescue Plutarch. Cinna hadn't been at the briefing, but he told her what he knew: they had an Avox on the inside who had presumably already led the rescue team through maintenance tunnels and into the heart of the Capitol; the duration of the broadcast coincided with the most dangerous part of the mission—infiltrating President Snow's own mansion; by the time the broadcast finished, the rescue team would have to have made it back to the tunnels with Plutarch in their custody; and from there the Avox insider would lead them back to the surface and they would return to 13 in a hovercraft.

While he told Katniss all this, she rummaged through the box beside her, found some pipe cleaners and started twisting and turning them into different shapes. Her hand motions were clumsy and nervous, which wasn't like her, and Cinna could tell she was worried about Gale but knew better than to mention it.

Instead he changed the subject, talking about the situation in District 5 until his voice was almost hoarse. At first, Katniss looked startled that he'd brought it up without being prompted, but she didn't ask about it and she didn't offer empty reassurances. She just listened intently and handed him some pipe cleaners to mess around with when his hands started to shake.

Cinna tried to twist the pipe cleaners into the shape of a dog, to go along with the cat Katniss had made. Eventually he held up the finished product for her to inspect.

"What the hell is that supposed to be?" she asked, cutting off a laugh halfway through with a very forced cough.

He patted her back and told her what it was supposed to be.

She eyed it suspiciously. "That is _not_ a dog."

"Sure it is. See, four legs, floppy ears, a tail—"

"That's not a tail. Those ears aren't floppy. And I only see three legs."

He threw his masterpiece at her. "You're so critical."

"I'm preparing you. Making pipe cleaner animals is a pretty cutthroat industry to go into, you know."

"Oh, I'm sure it is," he murmured, brushing her hair behind her ear so it wouldn't block his view of her smile. "Absolutely ruthless."

He left his palm on her cheek and she leaned into it, and suddenly there was something he had to know. He kept his eyes locked on hers as he spoke slowly, "When that soldier came in and said they were about to start the broadcast, your first instinct was to get away as quickly as possible." She just nodded warily, looking at him like she was wondering where he was going with this, and he only hesitated for a brief moment before asking, "Why was your second instinct to reach for me and take me with you?"

For a second she just sat there, frozen, with him holding both her face and her gaze, and then she pulled back as he knew she would. He let his hand fall to his side but kept his eyes on her.

She stared at the wall over his shoulder for a solid minute before looking back at him and countering, "What were you arguing with Peeta about yesterday?"

He took a moment to weigh his options, and then he decided that the only way he could expect an honest answer from her was to give one himself.

"You," he said. Then he clarified, "My relationship with you."

He waited for her to tense, waited for her throw her walls up twice as high and twice as thick as before, but instead she just sighed, making a face like she was only marginally wishing she was somewhere else not having this conversation.

"Let me guess, Peeta said something along the lines of, 'I know it's none of my business but let me pry into your personal life and ask you invasive and embarrassing questions anyways,'" she said, but she sounded less annoyed with Peeta and more unbearably fond of him.

"I know you think you're joking, but that's a surprisingly accurate account of how the conversation began."

"I am not surprised," she informed him.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't be." After all, with perhaps the exception of Haymitch, there wasn't anybody in the world who knew Peeta Mellark like Katniss did, and it was true the other way around as well. It was a product of going through the Games together, and Cinna had accepted a long time ago that there were parts of Katniss he would never be able to understand the way Peeta did, or even at all.

But there were also parts of Katniss that Peeta would never be able to understand the way Cinna did, although it had taken the visit to Katniss's old house for Cinna to truly realize that. He'd spent the first nine years of his life in the Capitol, but for the next nine he'd gotten to know poverty in a way someone who'd always had enough to eat, regardless of the quality of the food, simply couldn't.

There was even a part—a part with razor-sharp edges that cut open the same wound over and over and over again—all three of them had in common: they understood how badly a parent could let their child down.

Cinna had never heard Peeta speak badly of his mother, but there were some things that couldn't be hidden. Things that showed in the way a person's mouth tightened when someone's name came up in conversation, or the way they flinched without meaning to when someone they should have trusted came too close.

Sometimes, there were just things written all over a person's face no matter how hard they tried to erase the words.

"Answer my question," Cinna said gently.

So Katniss did. "I don't know. It just is. It's just better when you're there than when you're not."

And somehow, that made perfect sense, and it was far more than he'd thought he'd get, so he said, "Okay," and, "Peeta wanted to know how I felt about you."

"What did you tell him?" she asked, and Cinna immediately replied, "The truth."

He couldn't imagine what else she needed to hear, because the way he felt about her, that was one of those things that couldn't be erased no matter how hard he tried—and he _had_ tried. It was just one of the only things that never really disappeared from his face, and sometimes he thought about Katniss, just thought about the person she was and the ways she lived her life and the ways she didn't, and it occurred to him that maybe it never would.

"Why did you kiss me?" He had a feeling he already knew the answer, but he asked anyways.

Katniss lifted her chin. "I wanted to. Why did you run?"

"I didn't know your reason for kissing me was as simple as 'I wanted to'," he said easily, and when she rolled her eyes as if to say, _You see, this is all your fault_, he smiled because he couldn't _not_ smile.

And when he kissed her, it was because he couldn't not do that, either. (Somewhere out there, in the sky or the very depths of the earth or maybe another universe entirely, Cinna's late grammar tutor from when he was seven was crying into a handkerchief lamenting the fact that she'd never quite trained him out of using double negatives in the privacy of his own thoughts.)

He kissed Katniss for what felt like hours, kissed her slowly and lazily like for all the time they'd lost, he knew they'd have time enough to more than make up for it.

And then he realized he didn't know that, couldn't know that, because they were in the middle of a rebellion and in however many hours Katniss would be headed back to District 12 where a person was more likely to come back from a trip to the butcher's with a missing eye than food to eat.

That was about the time their kisses became heated and their hands started wandering, and it was only when Cinna knocked over a container of chalk that it occurred to him they were in a supply closet.

He pulled back and was almost startled to find he was on top of Katniss.

"All right." Katniss sighed (rather dramatically, Cinna thought) as he untangled one hand from her hair and removed the other from the inside of her thigh. "What's the problem?"

"We're in a supply closet," he said, rolling off her and sitting up.

"So?"

"So…" Cinna struggled to find a retort that didn't boil down to, _It's not very romantic. _"So, anybody could walk in at any moment."

But Katniss knew how his brain worked, and she knew what was really bothering him before the thought even fully formed in his mind.

"You're not like my patrons," she said calmly. "You don't have to prove anything to me, and you shouldn't have to prove anything to yourself, either. I've had patrons drag me into closets and tear off all my clothes before the door's even closed, and yes, I hated every minute of it, but I've also had patrons wine and dine me first and then lay me down on a bed covered in rose petals in a room full of lit candles. Trust me, it only made me want to stab them more."

She pushed herself up into a sitting position so she could look him directly in the eye again, and then reasoned, "It's just us, just you and me. The only way this could possibly be about those scumbags is if you make it about them."

Cinna leaned in and pressed a kiss her temple—a little kiss, a silent thank you, acknowledging that she was right. Then he pulled back a bit, and leaned in again to kiss her properly on the mouth—

She held him off with a hand on his chest. "You're right, though. Anyone could walk in at any moment. And…I want to see if Gale's back yet."

That soured the mood instantly. Cinna pushed to his feet and offered a hand to Katniss to help her up. "He probably is, we've been in here for a few hours."

"Let's check the hospital wing first," Katniss said as she put the fake baby bump back on. "Even if he's not hurt he'll probably want to stay with anyone else who got injured on the mission."

So they made their way to the hospital wing, ignoring the stares that followed Katniss the entire time—stares of pity, of horror, of disgust and, most disturbingly, of fascination—to find Gale sitting up on a bed, completely fine except for a shallow cut along his torso. Prim was expertly bandaging the wound as Madge stood to the side and watched with anxious and relieved eyes.

"Hey, Catnip," Gale said softly when he caught sight of Katniss.

Cinna studied the man carefully as Katniss returned the greeting and asked about her friend's wound. He looked sorry, Cinna decided. Not necessarily sorry for Katniss, as though he pitied her, just…sorry. For everything. He'd treated her horribly for the past couple years, but he'd had his reasons, and going by the only fraction of the big picture he'd had access to, they'd been valid ones.

"How'd the mission go?" Cinna asked.

Gale's mouth was set in a grim line. Madge wrung her hands. Prim shook her head sadly.

Not well, then.

"Plutarch's dead," Gale said bluntly. "We got him out of his cell without be seen but on our way back we were spotted by Peacekeepers patrolling the tunnels. He got shot in the crossfire, a bullet right through his brain. Our Avox guide was killed too."

"I thought the whole point of a guide was to avoid the Peacekeepers," Katniss said, frowning.

"They weren't taking their usual routes, apparently. I know what you're thinking," Gale added, before Katniss could speak. "But I don't think anyone gave the plan away. I don't think this was on purpose, not the way Plutarch's capture was."

"Why not?"

"Because they were looking for someone. We ran right into the guy—he killed Mitchell and took his gun before the Peacekeepers even caught up. Then all hell broke loose, people were shooting left and right… We were lucky to get out alive. We wouldn't have, if not for Boggs and Jackson. Plutarch and our guide... Some of our soldiers… They weren't so lucky. Neither were a few of the Peacekeepers."

"And the guy they were looking for?" Katniss asked.

"He died, too." And then, to Cinna's surprise, Gale turned away from her and met his gaze. "Boggs knew who he was, though. Said the guy broke out of prison months ago—he must've been hiding out in the tunnels all that time."

Cinna didn't need to ask for a name; there was only one person who'd ever broken out of the Capitol's prison.

His father was dead.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later found him back in the supply closet with Katniss. He vaguely remembered her slipping her hand into his as she made their excuses to Gale and the others and then pulling him along behind her as they left the hospital wing. He'd followed her without a word, too busy trying to process what he'd just learned to ask where they were going.<p>

She was asking him now if he wanted to be alone.

"No," he said immediately. "No, I want you here."

_It's just better when you're there than when you're not,_ she'd said earlier, and he'd never understood that more perfectly than he did right then. It was just better when they were together than when they weren't—it was honestly that simple and he couldn't believe they'd taken so long to figure it out.

He also couldn't believe his father was dead.

"He wasn't really my father," Cinna murmured as he leaned back against the shelves. "I've spent more than half my life denying his very existence. He certainly doesn't deserve to be mourned by me now. What he did to my mother… What he did to _you_…"

"But before all that?" Katniss pressed, leaning against the shelves beside him, their fingers still intertwined. "Before all that, when you were a child, he _was_ your father. You can mourn the man you thought he was. And I think you should, because it seems like you never have."

"You're right, I haven't," he admitted. "But—"

"Don't think about what he deserves. This is isn't about him, this is about _you_, and you deserve closure."

So he sat down on the floor, pulling Katniss down beside him, and she held his hand as he remembered the man who used to carry Cinna around on his shoulders during the Spring Carnival so he could see the performers better—and finally let that man go.

* * *

><p>Hours later, a soldier found them and announced that if Katniss wished to return to District 12, she would have to be in the hangar ready to go in thirty minutes—President Coin's orders.<p>

"President Coin's orders," Katniss grumbled after the soldier had left. "Maybe I should stay here rather than take my chances going anywhere in a hovercraft under _her_ _orders_. Don't want to end up like Plutarch."

Plutarch. Cinna had completely forgotten about him, too busy grieving his estranged father, and now he felt terrible. He'd often disagreed with Plutarch's point of view, especially where right and wrong were concerned, but the former Head Gamemaker had been something of a friend and he was dead.

Katniss must've been reading his mind or something, because she nudged him with her elbow and said, "Don't beat yourself up over it. It feels like he's been dead for months already. I forgot about him for a while, too, and I'm not the one whose father just died."

"Still." Cinna sighed. "He would've survived if my father hadn't been down there."

"Maybe," she allowed. "But that's Gaius Mannox's fault, not yours."

"I know." And the funny thing was, he really did. He knew it wasn't his fault and he did not blame himself.

They dropped in on the Everdeens again so Katniss could say goodbye. There was no time to visit the Hawthornes so Katniss just told her mother and sister to pass on her farewells. However, when they made their way to the hangar they found Gale there talking to Finnick.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm coming with you," Gale replied.

Katniss frowned at him. "But what about Madge and the baby?"

"They'll be here when I get back," he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"We're in the middle of a rebellion," she hissed. "Has is not occurred to you that, oh, I don't know, you might _not_ come back?"

"It has." His shoulders were straight now, his expression solemn. "But if I don't, then at least I know I died trying to make the world a better place for my kid."

"You can do that here."

Gale shook his head at that argument. "That rescue attempt was probably the only real action I've seen since I got here. Most of the time they just send me out to make sure the area is safe for them to film Maple giving speeches or stabbing things or just standing there looking pretty in her Mockingjay suit."

Cinna wondered vaguely if he should be offended by Gale's obvious scorn, because he'd worked on that suit for _weeks_, but then he decided he didn't particularly care.

"And you're sure whatever difference you can make is worth the possibility of your child growing up without a father?" he asked Gale.

It was an honest question, not an insult, and Gale seemed to recognize that because rather than snap back he simply said, "Yes."

Katniss' face clearly said, _This is complete and utter bullshit_, but there was no time to protest, Boggs was gesturing for them to board the hovercraft.

Gale nodded once at Cinna and went over to Boggs. Finnick, who'd been silent throughout the entire exchange but had looked just as skeptical of Gale's reasoning as Cinna felt, clapped Cinna on the shoulder and asked him to keep an eye on Annie and Mags for him, following Gale's lead as soon as Cinna agreed to his request.

Cinna immediately turned his full attention to Katniss, who stared back at him.

"Be careful," he told her, because what else could he say? Well— "And thank you. For everything."

"Don't thank me," she murmured, stepping into the hug he offered her. "You would've done the same for me. You _did_ do the same for me."

He just nodded, face buried in her hair.

"But just to be clear…" She pulled back and raised an eyebrow at him. "Next time, if you mention any more garbage about the atmosphere not being romantic enough or whatever the hell else, I _will_ punch you."

She said _next time_ like she was hoping there would be a lot of next times, and he wasn't sure exactly what this thing between them was but he knew he was hoping for the same. So he smiled, couldn't stop smiling even when she snuck a kiss in when no one was looking, even when she stepped into the hovercraft and it took off, carrying her far away from him, back into a warzone.

He didn't stop smiling even then, because he didn't know how long it would be until he once again had something to smile about.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: So, chapter 12 isn't even close to finished, but I aim to have it done by April 6th. Hopefully. And then after that the only thing left will be the epilogue.<strong>

**Next time: a long overdue talk with Gale, a talk with Peeta, something terrible and something wonderful.**


End file.
